


A Gentle Place

by Feena_c



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Feels, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:33:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 20,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23429275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Feena_c/pseuds/Feena_c
Summary: A Dorian/Trevelyan falling in love story (canon compliant but alternative) in which things are generally very nice and if anything unpleasant happens it is quickly remedied.
Relationships: Male Inquisitor/Dorian Pavus
Comments: 15
Kudos: 44





	1. Nice to meet nice people

Dorian looked up at the sound of someone knocking on the doorframe--he’d left the door open as he’d carried in more firewood. The south was bloody freezing, he didn’t know how anyone stood it. Dorian frowned slightly at the sight, disapproving vaguely. It was the Herald, wearing a shirt with no bloody sleeves. Granted he had on fingerless gloves which came most of the way up his arm, but there was still skin exposed to the frigid air.  _ How?  _

Lord Trevelyan raised an eyebrow. “Hi--sorry. Is this a bad time?” 

Dorian realized the expression he was making and switched it smoothly to a welcoming smile. “What--no. Just thinking.” Dorian pushed himself up from stooping over the fireplace. “What can I do for you, oh Herald of Andraste?” 

Wallace chuckled and waved a hand dismissively. “Please, you’ll spoil my ego. You’ve already said I should just call you Dorian rather than ‘Lord Pavus’, so It’s just Wallace, thank you.” 

Dorian smiled. He had said that, hadn’t he? “Alright--what can I do for Wallace?” Dorian folded his arms and leaned easily against the desk in the small cabin. 

“Nothing. I just wanted to be sure you were settling in alright, since you’ve decided to stay on. I’m pleased to have another competent mage helping us.” 

Dorian gave Wallace a curious look. “Are you? No second thoughts about having a  _ Tevinter _ mage skulking about the place?” 

Wallace smiled mildly. “I’m not too enthused about anyone skulking about, but I hadn’t noticed  _ you _ doing any such thing.” 

“That’s just because I’m very good at it.” Dorian winked. 

Wallace laughed. “I’ll try to remember that. Anyway, need anything? Besides more trees cut down?” Wallace leaned back, eyeing the dwindling stack of firewood outside. 

“I’d need less wood if you weren’t standing there with the door open. You can come in, you know.” 

“I wasn’t planning on bothering you--Cassandra is waiting for me. I’ll head off, if you’re all set.” 

Dorian nodded. “Snug as can be.”

Wallace nodded. “Good. Give a shout if that changes. I owe you.”

Dorian smirked. “For pulling you back to the proper time so you can then save the world from the Breach? Hmm. I don’t know, helping with firewood just might not cover it. Alas nothing comes to mind at present. Best not keep the seeker waiting, she doesn’t seem the patient sort.” Dorian nodded towards the chantry. 

Wallace grinned. “Keep thinking, then. See you later, Dorian.” 

Dorian blinked at the door for a moment after it was shut. Well; the Herald had expressed gratitude for his help back at Redcliffe, and had been amiable enough when Dorian had declared he was staying, but he was pleasantly surprised the friendly affect seemed to be on-going. Enough people had given him dirty looks--some said things to his face--that he’d rather resigned himself to this whole thing being one big, unpleasant misadventure. A bit of a relief if not everyone was going to be rude. Hopefully the Herald wasn’t the only one with a practical attitude. 

\---

Dorian walked into the little tavern, such as it was, and glanced around. There were a decent number of people milling about, though he was surprised there weren’t more. Where else was there to eat around Haven? Although from walking through camp it seemed small groups had formed here and there, pooling resources to cook for themselves. Not so much an option for Dorian. He hadn’t any supplies to bring to the proverbial table, any cooking skill, and he didn’t know anyone. He wasn’t of a mind to try sidling up to a bunch of strangers to beg dinner given the general reactions to him so far, best just to buy something. 

Dorian blinked in surprise as he heard his name. He looked towards the main counter where Wallace was sitting, waving at him and, apparently, chatting with the barmaid. 

Dorian smiled easily, moving towards him.

“Dorian! Come have a seat. Flissa, would you fetch him a drink, please?” 

Dorian raised a hand. “I won’t say no to a drink  _ but _ I came looking for food.” 

“I can manage both,” Flissa smiled at Wallace shyly and turned away to fetch the order. 

Dorian sat down near Wallace, nodding another greeting. “I see someone has her charmed.” Dorian commented, smiling. 

Wallace chuckled. “I think the Herald bit has given me an advantage. Well, to some. Others want to murder me for it so…” Wallace raised a hand and waved it flatly above the counter, indicating his reception had been mixed. 

Dorian snorted. “Whether you’re Andrastian or not it seems a bit foolish to want to kill the only man in Thedas who is able to do anything to save us all from the giant hole in the sky, threatening to swallow the world. Or are their necks too stiff to look up and see that part?” 

Wallace grinned. “Sometimes I think it’s more people covering their eyes. Suppose I can’t blame them too much, it is a bit of a mess out here. Easier not to look.” 

“I’m sure you’ll have it all set to rights, soon.” 

“I appreciate the vote of confidence. Ah, thank you Flissa!” Wallace nodded as the woman set down a plate for Dorian and a mug of something unidentifiable. 

Dorian stabbed a bit of roasted potato and blew on it, watching the steam rise in a satisfying plume. “So,” Dorian opened, changing the subject from the apocalypse. “You got the chance to hear all about me on the way back from Redcliffe. I think it’s only fair I get to know you a bit.” 

Wallace, who had stopped eating to be polite when Dorian joined him, paused in the middle of tearing off a piece of bread. He continued with a smile as Dorian finished speaking. “What would you like to know? You already know I’m a Trevelyan.” 

“You say that as if that's all there is to know about you. Surely you’re not so dull.” Dorian bit the potato carefully, it still looked hot. A bit bland, but it would do. He was starving. 

Wallace shrugged. “Honestly, up to now I have been quite boring, politically.” 

“Not interested in climbing society’s ranks?” Dorian asked. 

“Oh I’ve gone to my share of parties. Oldest child--comes with the territory. But no, it’s not particularly my cup of tea. I’m quite happy with my family’s position as it is. We’re well respected, but not so involved in anything that anyone but our neighbors pay us much mind.” 

“Is your family happy with it that way?” Dorian asked, curious.

“Hmm? Yes, I think so. They’ve never really done much rank-jockeying either--my parents that is. My sister--Onna--wouldn’t be able to stand anything like that--she’d hurt her neck rolling her eyes.” Wallace laughed, though he went serious a moment later. Dorian raised an eyebrow quizzically, and Wallace realized he’d gone quiet. 

“Sorry--just… worried. My little brother, Edmund, he’s a mage. Never got a chance to see if he wanted to try to rank up or not.” Wallace’s smile was tight, and he looked away. 

Dorian sat up a bit, having been resting his cheek on his hand. Was he ashamed of having a mage in the family? His comment about having another competent mage about earlier wouldn’t align with that. So many people had been killed since the South’s circles had rebelled against their Templar wardens, perhaps... “Is he…” Dorian found himself saying before stifling himself. If he was dead, it probably wasn’t a pleasant thing for Wallace to discuss. 

Wallace shook his head. “No idea. That’s why I was at the conclave, actually. I mean, ostensibly to see how the talks went. But really we were hoping I might find Edmund there and be able to bring him home. I hope he wasn’t--” Wallace cut off. He gave Dorian another tense look. “I’m still looking--we all are. Hopefully he’s hiding somewhere and didn’t get involved in the fighting…” 

Dorian frowned. “You sound doubtful.” 

Wallace got a distant look again. “It’s no secret my family is supportive of the mages. My parents never wanted to give Edmund up to the circle--they were forced. He wasn’t exactly raised to take being locked up lying down.” 

Dorian gave Wallace a sympathetic look. “I see. Well, if his big brother survived walking out of the fade… hopefully resilience runs in the family.” 

“Or just terrible luck, as Varric put it to me the other day.” 

Dorian tilted his head, confused. Wallace laughed, clearly trying to relax again. “Nevermind. Yes--hopefully he has. One good thing about falling in with Cassandra’s Inquisition, it’s got resources. Leliana has been most willing to help us search.” 

“I wish you luck.” Dorian said sincerely. 

“Thank you. But come on, no since sitting around worrying. Your food is getting cold, and so’s mine. Let’s eat and then how about I show you down to Seggrit’s so you can get a decent cloak?” 

Dorian agreed readily. 


	2. Hodge-pdoge Heroes

“And a-one, and a-two, and--” Wallace gasped in surprise as Bull hefted him overhead without finishing the count, flinging him towards the haypile. He--mostly--landed in it. Bull made a dissatisfied sound, rolling his shoulders, and Sera nearly rolled off her place on the wall laughing at them. 

“Nice shot, chief,” Krem said from his spot in the sun. 

“Ack--he’s not going to work. He’s not even wearing his armor right now and that was only like… 15 feet?” 

“Pfft--that’s like 12 feet, max,” Sera said, leaning over to dangle one leg from her perch. 

Wallace sat up, rubbing his hip. “Ow--should’ve gotten a bigger haypile.” 

“I was hoping for double that. C’mon Sera, let me try with you. You’re like half his size.” 

“Double?! If you were trying to throw me that far why did you stand so close to the hay?” Wallace objected. 

“Worked out, didn’t it?” Bull said, mostly ignoring him. “C’mon Sera, this could be a great move!”

“Not on your life! You’re not tossing me around at baddies. Why don’t you throw that mage of yours at them? That’ll really put them off.” Sera folded her arms as she sat back up. 

“I’m not a mage!” Came Dalish’s voice from inside the tavern. 

“Damn, she’s got good hearing.” Bull gave the wall an impressed expression. 

“I think perhaps we ought to let this go. Even if Sera was willing, or you could throw me further, that landing was pretty rough even with the hay. And Sera would have arrows, I’d have a sword… lots of fun ways to spectacularly kill ourselves.” 

“It would certainly disorient your enemies, though.” Dorian commented, walking up. 

Wallace snorted, grinning. “Fair point--but I don’t think I’d be able to capitalize on it.” 

“Take one for the team, Herald! We could use it!” Sera shouted. 

Wallace raised his left hand. “I remind you all we need this to hopefully save the world.” 

“Agh, Sera, one throw!” Bull tried again. 

Wallace pushed himself up, slapping Krem’s arm gratefully as the man offered to have their medic check his hip, then approached Dorian. 

“How’re you today, Dorian? Enjoying the weather?” 

Dorian raised a questioning eyebrow. “Is that a joke?” 

Wallace looked genuinely confused for a moment then grinned with just a hint of teasing showing in his eyes. “You know, for us, this  _ is _ nice.” 

Dorian scoffed. “I pity you all more everyday. But, I am surviving, thank you.” 

Wallace nodded. “Oh, Dorian?” Wallace’s expression shifted more serious, his voice lowering somewhat. “Let me know if you have any trouble, alright?” Dorian raised one eyebrow, but Wallace went on before he could question him. “It didn’t escape me the look Seggrit gave you yesterday. Or Harritt.” Wallace frowned. Frankly they weren’t the only ones he’d noticed giving disapproving to downright hostile looks to the mage. “You need me to set anyone straight--or knock their heads together--tell me.” 

Dorian found himself smiling somewhat amusedly. “Aren’t you the gallant one? To what do I owe the favor?” 

Wallace chuckled. “I told you, I owe you. And anyway I’m used to throwing down when necessary over mages, so nothing new.”

“Not like they have no reason to dislike me.  _ Tevinter _ mages did cause the blights after all--however we might like to deny it. I am a bit surprised, though. Mage blood in the family or no, you seem awfully comfortable jumping to my defense. No qualms about Tevinter yourself?” 

Wallace shrugged one shoulder. “Honestly? I’ve plenty of qualms about Tevinter. But you’re not one of the Venatori who are causing problems, you’re trying to help stop them. Thedas as a whole could use more people like that.” 

Dorian snorted. “Perhaps you are a prophet indeed, spouting wisdom like that.” He didn’t intend it to come off as an insult, though he realized after it was out it might sound that way. Wallace seemed to take it in stride. 

“Common sense is, as they say, not so common. Anyway, just wanted to let you know I’ve got your back if you need it.” 

“Very kind.” 

Wallace looked at Dorian for a moment. “I’m being serious.” 

Dorian’s polite smile shifted slightly. “As was I.”

Wallace nodded once, feeling he was missing something but Dorian wasn’t being forthcoming. He’d let it drop. “Alright, well, I’ll see you later.” Wallace turned and headed towards the Chantry. 

Dorian turned back towards the tavern--his original destination--and crunched across the hard frozen ground. He was frankly unsure what to make of that. Wallace seemed sincere--but almost too much so. If he was genuine though… Dorian had precious few friends, and none here. Having the Herald as one would definitely be a plus. He pushed the door open to the tavern. Flissa at least was always pleasant--if Wallace approved of Dorian, so did she. 


	3. Such as they are

Dorian eyed the stones along the riverbank as they walked, careful not to slip. Why he was bothering he wasn’t sure, he was already drenched head to toe thanks to the ever present rain. Sometimes it poured, sometimes it was almost fine and light enough to be considered mist, but in one way or another the storm coast consistently lived up to its name. 

“It’s getting dark, can we stop soon?” Sera piped up. “My feet are soaked.”

“Pretty sure that’s just a darker cloud, not night coming,” Bull said, amused. 

Wallace stopped and looked back at Sera. A sorry sight in the best of times with those pants, Dorian thought bemusedly, and that much worse wet. Not that he was a prize at the minute, either. 

Wallace looked up, squinting into the raindrops. “Alright--seems to be getting worse. We can break.” 

Sera turned and started heading for some trees, kicking her feet not unlike a cat forced to wear booties, and muttering. 

The trees were, well… they gathered the little drops of rain and subsequently sent down large ones, when they got tired of holding them. Wallace helped Bull string up a couple of coverings to try to make an area where they could make a fire and hopefully dry out at least a little. 

“Lend a hand, sparkler?” Bull called to Dorian as he crouched, stacking bits of very sodden wood together. 

“I see Varric’s nicknames are catching,” Dorian commented as he walked over, preparing to cast a fire spell. There was a certain trick to making it intense enough to light wet kindling without just burning it all up instantaneously. 

“Feel free to pick another--all my guys got names depending on what they do. You wanna be uh, Firehand? Torch?” 

Dorian smiled as the fire flicked to life between them. “How about just Dorian?” 

“Ahhh, that’s no fun.” Bull pushed himself up. “Gonna grab some more firewood before settling in, boss,” he called to Wallace. 

“Need a hand?” Wallace shouted after him. 

Bull just brandished his battleaxe and kept moving. 

“Who’s cooking? Blegh.” Sera made a disgusted sound as she removed her shoe, looking at her wrinkly foot. 

Wallace tossed a backpack next to her. “Fresh socks in there. I’ll go look for something to shoot, if you’ll lend me your bow?” 

“You know how to use it?” Sera eyed him, grinning. 

“I may fight with a sword and shield but I’ve been hunting plenty of times. Poncy noble, remember?” he winked. Wallace took Sera’s bow and quiver and started off in the opposite direction from Bull. Dorian looked at Sera for a moment, who was paying him no mind as she wrung her shoe out, then stood and moved to follow Wallace. 

Wallace glanced over his shoulder as he heard approaching footsteps. “Don’t you want to get started drying?”

Dorian shrugged. “Pretty sure I won’t be comfortable again until we get back to Haven. Well, perhaps not then either, but anyway, I’ll tag along if you don’t mind. Can’t have our herald wandering off by himself. What if you were set upon by wolves?” 

Wallace grinned. “Then we’d be having wolf for dinner. But hopefully we’ll find something more appealing before that.” 

Dorian followed along for a few minutes, the silence broken by Wallace. “How is Alexius doing?” 

Dorian slowed slightly, but then sped up again to keep pace. “He’s… broken, I think. Losing Felix… it was inevitable, but he’d fought against it for so long that… I don’t know.” 

“I’m sorry it came to this. I know you were friends. I didn’t appreciate that when we first met. It must have been… thank you for helping us.” 

Dorian looked down, scoffing. “You’ve already thanked me.” 

“I know, but that was before we spoke and I knew you two were close. Fighting people we know is the worst kind of fight, so thank you again. I hope he recovers, as much as is possible.” 

Dorian looked up now, but he couldn’t see Wallace’s expression. They were still walking, and he was focused on their path. “That’s very kind. I hope so, too. If for no one’s sake other than Felix’s. He’d… I know he hoped his father could be saved.” 

Wallace just nodded solemnly, still walking. 

“Do you mind if I ask you something personal?” Dorian ventured. 

“Go ahead.” 

“Just now, were you speaking from experience? You sounded a bit like you were. About fighting friends…” 

Wallace moved a branch out of his way, holding it for a moment to make sure it didn’t smack Dorian as he followed. “Not anything so extreme as you and Alexius, but… I’ve had disagreements with people I was close to. Some of them… over the sorts of things it could easily come to blows over… or worse.” 

Dorian gave Wallace a questioning look. 

Wallace let out a tired breath, continuing. “When it came out my brother was a mage there were… some falling outs. Some with friends, some with family. No bloodshed as yet, but with everything going on… it’s been something I’ve thought about, is all.” 

“Oh? I’m sorry. You said your family supported mages, I thought? Not all then, I take it.” Dorian gave Wallace a tight look. Maybe he shouldn’t be prying, but he was curious. 

Wallace shook his head. “Not all. Some cousins… and a few other relatives, well... Our family has a long history of serving the Chantry. And the Templars. To suddenly have a mage in the family… some have not been able to shake their anger over it.” Wallace dropped his head slightly, covering the angry expression he got thinking of some of the things that had been said to his parents. 

Dorian nodded wordlessly. 

“I’m just grateful the immediate family were all united in supporting him--I don’t know what it would’ve done to Edmund if we hadn’t been. He felt guilty enough as it was. As if it--nevermind. Anyway, I’m glad you were able to visit Alexius. Leliana told me--sorry.” 

Dorian tilted his head, shrugging it off. “I understand she agreed with you that Alexius should be allowed to live--to work for the mages rather than be executed. I’ll thank her, and you, for that. So I’ll let it go this once that she’s spying on me as much as anyone else,” Dorian put on a teasing tone, trying to lighten things up again. 

“Give the others some credit. I didn’t have to work too hard to convince them. Shh--” Wallace cut off, spotting a ram in the distance. “Quiet.” 


	4. Routine Roudabout

“Why don’t you ever take me anywhere nice? So much for southern hospitality.” Dorian glared for a moment at the slimy water which was now at his hips. 

“You say that as if I choose where we go. I’m just doing what the Inquisition asks of me--you’re welcome to object to assignments. Perhaps if we both crow loud enough Cassandra will be moved by our pleas.” Wallace raised his voice slightly, looking over Dorian’s head to the Seeker, also making disgruntled noises as she waded through the mucky water. 

“You are welcome to ask the demons to ignore rifts which open in unpleasant areas,” she tossed at them irritably. 

“Ah well, could be worse,” Wallace shrugged and went on, deeper. 

“Oh? How, exactly?” Dorian asked, a laugh managing to bubble up despite the circumstances. Sometimes one must laugh or else cry. He was going to get some sort of ghastly illness he was sure. He’d anticipated being a tragic figure in this crazy pursuit--but he hadn’t imagined dying from consumption to be the way he’d go. 

“Well… could be snakes in the water?” Wallace offered. 

Dorian froze. “You are making a joke, right? You didn’t see one, did you?” 

“I haven’t seen any snakes, don’t worry.” Wallace chuckled. 

“If there’s snakes in this water you all better believe I’m using you as stepping stones to the next bit of land!” Sera said, holding her quiver above her head and grimacing. 

“Let’s just get done and get out--” Cassandra was cut off as Sera screamed and splashed forward, grabbing at Wallace’s arm as if she really meant to haul herself up onto his shoulders. 

“What--what?” Wallace asked, alarm melting into amusement. “Snake?” 

“Don’t laugh you giant arse, something touched me!” Sera shouted, shoving his head lightly. 

“It was your imagination,” Cassandra said levelly. 

“It wasn’t!” Sera yelled. 

“Let’s just move away briskly, shall--” Dorian stopped mid sentence, mind suddenly focused on dismissing the notion that he felt something touching his leg. It must be his mind playing tricks on him. “Fasta vass--” he gripped his staff, an undirected wave of just ‘get away’ blasting out. The thing released and was gone, and so was Dorian, ignoring the wetness seeping up his clothes as he splashed forward. “There’s definitely something in here!”

Whether or not his claim would also have been dismissed was not discovered, as a grotesque head and shoulders rose from the water a few feet back. 

“Undead!” Cassandra shouted, pulling her sword. 

There was a frantic bit of splashing as they all dashed--as well as one can in waist deep water--towards the nearest bit of land. As Cassandra backed out of the water, a ghoulish corpse rose after her. 

“Shite!” Sera pulled an arrow as she slid her quiver onto her back again, taking aim. Dorian and Wallace both turned as well, Wallace running back towards the water and kicking at the head of one of the creatures as it crawled out of the muck. Under less surprising circumstances watching its head soar and splash into the water a ways back might have been amusing--not so much at present. 

Dorian set about placing some fire glyphs on the ground, as Wallwace splashed in the shallows, sword swinging. 

As quickly as the monstrous bodies appeared, they retreated, save three which lay in bits at the water’s edge now. Wallace came wading back, pulling his sword through the water to rinse it--not that the water was much more appealing than blood. 

There was a moment of silence as each of them just caught their breath from the unexpected run and combat. 

Sera raised her hands. “That’s it--I quit! Screw the skyhole I’m done.” She turned and squelched aways off, flapping her arms to try to get some of the horrible water shaken out of her clothes. 

“Apparently the rumors about this place are true,” Cassandra grumbled, also cleaning her sword. 

“Charming. Think you could just freeze the area over so we could ice skate to where we need to go?” Wallace gave Dorian a teasing look. Honestly, why did they always end up in shitholes? Surely there must be some rifts _ somewhere _ nice? 

“Oh yes, brilliant idea. And if the ice cracks then you’re stuck under water  _ and _ with corpses? No thank you,” Dorian huffed. 

Wallace laughed. “You sell yourself so short? The ice wouldn’t crack.” 

“Cold spells are not my specialty.” 

\----

Dorian looked up as he crunched across the ground outside Haven’s wall; he’d been walking and reading, trying to absorb some of the frigid sunshine. He’d heard a sudden, loud laugh and been startled from the pages. Wallace was standing and laughing near the little area set up with practice dummies, and Cassandra was stomping away from him, red faced. She didn’t acknowledge Dorian, muttering as she passed him and headed up towards the stables. 

Dorian looked to Wallace and raised a questioning brow as he approached. “What did you do to her?” 

Wallace chuckled, pulling on his coat. He’d taken it off while practicing with Cassandra. “I complimented her--well, I thought it was a compliment anyway. Good book?” Wallace asked, buttoning his coat and shrugging his shoulders to make it ride comfortably. 

“Not really--there’s hardly any decent reading around this place. Not much in the way of distraction at all really. Sorry I missed the show,” Dorian tilted his head slightly, purposefully teasing. 

Wallace glanced up, catching Dorian’s meaning. He grinned, enjoying the look Dorian was giving him. “I’m out here everyday. I’ll save you a seat tomorrow,” he winked. 

Dorian raised his eyebrows, but otherwise didn’t react. “You are thoughtful, aren’t you?” 

“I am but a humble public servant.” 

Dorian snorted. “Humble, are you? Seems to me you’re quite aware you’re rather strapping.” 

Wallace’s grin shifted and he gestured towards the gates, indicating Dorian should walk with him. “According to some--not all. But you’re rather strapping yourself, come to that.” Two could play this game. 

Dorian shrugged. “That’s obvious to anyone. Noticing that only takes eyes.” 

“Fortunately I have those,” Wallace said smoothly. 

“Indeed, a rather fetching pair,” Dorian replied, voice lowering slightly as they passed by Seggrit’s stall. 

Wallace laughed out loud, clapping Dorian’s shoulder. “You win this round. Come on, what’re you reading? Perhaps we can find you something better in Lady Vivienne’s things.” 

\----

Dorian walked along the outer walkway of the Chantry’s main chamber, avoiding the more brightly lit central area where the sisters were standing and chatting. They were wary of him, and he felt no need to draw their attention just now. He knocked lightly on Lady Montilyet’s door, her light reply ushering him in. He stopped in the doorway, spotting Wallace sitting near her desk. 

“Ah--sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt.” 

“Not at all, Lord Pavus, please come in--” Josephine broke off, laughing. “Apologies, we were just reminiscing. Please. What did you need?” 

Wallace nodded a greeting, still grinning over whatever he and Josephine had been discussing, and sat back to wait for whatever Dorian was here for. 

“Just returning those couple books I borrowed yesterday.” Dorian stepped in, producing the books from under his arm and setting them on her desk. 

“Already? You read them?” Josephine seemed surprised. 

“I’m a quick reader--and I confess stayed up rather late doing it. Thank you for lending them to me,” Dorian said politely. 

Wallace chuckled, stifling himself quickly with his hand. Dorian might appreciate the joke that had just popped to mind about keeping him up late, but Josephine would likely find it too crass. 

“Of course, if you’d like to borrow any others please feel free,” Josephine said. 

“Thank you. Perhaps later. Sorry for the intrusion.” Dorian stepped out, slowly pulling the heavy door closed. A snippet of their conversation drifted out after him. 

“Where was I?” Wallace prompted. 

Josephine tsked. “You were flattering Lord Heran’s appearance at the melee?” 

Dorian smiled primly at the couple of sisters who’d spotted him, causing a flurry of whispering to erupt. He mentally sighed and started for the exit. Surely they must run out of things to say about him at some point, yes? 


	5. Natural Beauty

Dorian took a breath, the cold air stinging his lungs. Despite this he felt rather happy--the sun was shining and they were out in a field devoid of demons or corpses or darkspawn--it was a good day. He smiled to himself. All this time in the south had addled his brain if all it took for him to have some pep in his step was a lack of actively falling snow or rain and nothing imminently trying to kill him. 

He wasn’t the only one feeling the general air of cheerfulness though. Blackwall and Sera were a few yards ahead, their voices and laughter drifting back to where Dorian was. He closed his eyes for a moment and sighed. If he closed his eyes he couldn’t see the tinge of green in the sky to their left, winding its way back through the clouds to the breach behind them. Without it, he could almost imagine the world was in a decent state. Sort of. 

He opened his eyes and turned in his saddle slightly, looking back to see where Wallace was. Wallace had fallen a ways behind. When had he gotten off his horse? He was walking along the edge of the field they were beside, hands touching the tops of the wheat which was ready for harvesting. Dorian slowed, watching him. Wallace had a distant look. Dorian pulled the reins, stopping his horse and waiting for Wallace to catch up, admiring the sight of him until he was close enough to realize Dorian had stopped. Wallace looked up, smiling mildly with a questioning air about him. 

“Big fan of wheat are you?” Dorian said jokingly. 

Wallace chuckled. “Actually, yes. Reminds me of home.”

“Oh? Ah, that’s right. The area around Ostwick is known for its farmlands, isn’t it?” Dorian said, squinting at his memory of what he’d read about geography in the vicinity. 

Wallace nodded. “Yes. Harvest will be nearly through. Best time of the year--all the town parties. Well…” Wallace got a wistful expression again. “Maybe not best, spring is excellent too, when the fields are all freshly plowed. And high summer, when everything’s green…” 

Dorian’s mouth twitched into a slightly different smile. “Miss it, I take it?” 

Wallace seemed to snap back to the present. “Ah, it hasn’t been that long. Just feeling sentimental today, I guess. What about you? You’re much farther from home. Ever miss Tevinter?” Wallace asked, pulling himself back up into his saddle. 

Dorian looked forward, starting his horse walking again. “Yes, quite a lot. I might have vehement disagreements about how things should be done at home but… the country is lovely. Minrathos is a truly historic city--streets where the buildings are a century old the whole row down. Libraries ten times the size of Haven’s Chantry, easily. And the market--ah…” Dorian closed his eyes now, picturing the smells and the feeling of warm air on his skin rather than cold. 

Wallace watched him, a smile spreading across his face. He enjoyed listening to Dorian, whatever the subject, but it was always the best to see him talking fondly of something. Well, that, or ranting at a book. When he was blasting a theory to tiny pieces he got a fire in his eyes and a speed to his speech that Wallace loved. “I imagine it must be very beautiful indeed, to put that expression on your face.” 

Dorian snorted, giving Wallace a look. “You had your own dreamy gaze a moment ago, I don’t want to hear it.” 

Wallace laughed. “I was being serious!” 

Dorian shot Wallace another look, but the man was smiling insufferably. Dorian found himself smiling again, too, and refocused on the road ahead. 

\----

“You know, I think you’re rather unfair to me.” 

Dorian’s head jerked up, startled from his reading. He let the front legs of his chair fall forward, back on the ground. “What?” 

Wallace laughed at Dorian’s startled reaction. “I said you’re unfair to me. I let you know I would be out in the yard training every afternoon if you wanted to come watch, and here you sit looking all intent and focused and didn’t bother to invite me to stare.” 

Dorian’s confused expression melted into easy amusement. “I didn’t know you had an interest in the finer arts. I’m afraid it’s rather difficult to give warning for me--never know ahead of time if a passage is going to provoke ‘intent and focused’ study, or just annoyance and eye-rolling.” 

Wallace pushed himself away from the wall and walked over to where Dorian was sitting, trying to get some sunlight. Reading by firelight was giving him a headache. Wallace crouched down next to his chair. “I don’t suppose I’d complain--you’re fine enough to look at either way. What’s the topic today?” 

“Flatterer.” Dorian held up his latest lend from Josephine. “Memoirs of Brother Artilius.” 

“I’m not familiar.”

“Neither was I, hence the intent reading. To what do I owe the interruption? Or did you just stop to comment and my dashing good looks?” 

Wallace’s expression broke into a grin. “Is that not reason enough?” 

“Honestly, it is. It’s a wonder I ever get anything done,” Dorian sighed, clearly burdened by his own attractiveness, and leaned over the arm of his chair, face close to Wallace’s. 

Wallace’s expression shifted mischievous, and for a moment Dorian felt off-balance, then Wallace stood without warning, eyes which had been so close a moment ago now looking down at him with laughter dancing behind them. “Got word of trouble with Venatori out in the Hinterlands. Going to head out there with the Chargers and Varric tomorrow, care to join us?” 

Dorian sighed. “It’s better than the Storm Coast at least.”

\----

Dorian glanced up from his spot near the fire, feet inches from it to maximize warmth without catching his boots on fire, and looked across at Wallace sitting with Bull, Varric and Krem. They were playing some sort of cards that Krem had brought along. Dorian turned a page, smiling amusedly to himself as he heard Wallace curse quietly. 

“You set me up.” 

“You’ll get the hang of it, boss,” Bull said. 

“Not before I’m broke, at this rate.” 

“Coward,” Bull said flatly. 

Wallace turned slowly to him without standing, and for a moment it seemed he was truly offended but there was a slight wobble of amusement in his voice that tipped he wasn’t. “Those are fighting words, Bull.” 

“I could take you.”

“Oh for--here we go.” Krem rolled his eyes, tossing the deck of cards he’d been shuffling on the stump between them. 

Varric just chuckled, pulling out his worn travel journal. 

“What’s the contest?” Wallace tipped his chin up slightly at Bull. 

“Arm wrestling.”

Wallace snorted. Bull could break his arm and he knew it. He wasn’t about to back down though. “You’re a bastard, Bull. Fine. Let’s go.” 

“Sure about this, Courser?” Varric asked, licking his quill. 

Wallace gave him a look, but went on good-naturedly. “Count for us?” he addressed this to Krem. 

Dorian watched for a moment, surprised when Wallace’s arm didn’t immediately get plastered to the top of the stump. Bull said something Dorian didn’t catch from his spot, then pushed Wallace’s arm back fast enough he fell off the pack he’d been using as a seat, laughing. 

“That was cruel, Bull!” Wallace declared from his position on the ground, still laughing. “You could’ve done that straight off.” 

“Wanted to see how much you put into it--you’re pretty good. Not in my league, obviously, but still…” Bull shrugged, smiling slightly. 

“Obviously!” Wallace repeated, tucking his arms under his head to make his position on the ground more comfortable. 

\----

Wallace started as someone rounded the corner of the building he was using as a backrest, ready to stand. Dorian, equally surprised, stopped in his tracks. 

“Oh--What on earth are you doing sitting in the snow back here?” Dorian asked. 

“Hiding.” 

Dorian folded his arms, smirking. “What on earth could have our brave Herald cowering behind a building?” 

Wallace lowered his voice, gesturing over his shoulder. “Visiting nobles.” 

“Oh? I  _ see _ . Well then.” Dorian crouched down by Wallace, careful not to completely sit in the damp. “There are more comfortable places to hide. Come drop by my rustic little cottage, for example, no one will bother you there.” 

Wallace snorted. “That an invitation?” He reached over , gesturing for Dorian to help him up. 

“It is.” Dorian leaned back, pulling him up. “Aren’t you the Trevelyan heir? How is it you’re afraid of talking with nobles?”

“I’m not afraid--I just  _ really  _ don’t want to. And because I do handle it quite often, I think I’m due, thank you very much.” Wallace bowed slightly.

Dorian gestured for them to keep walking behind the buildings, largely out of sight. He sometimes went this way when he didn’t feel like running the gauntlet of glares. “I see, shirking your duties? Putting everything on our dear Ambassador?” 

Wallace rolled his head back. “Come on, don’t make me feel bad. They don’t even want to speak to me, they just want to get a look at the ‘Herald of Andraste’, maybe rub something on me for luck and then fuck off. Josephine can give them my belt or something, they’ll be almost just as happy.” 

Dorian laughed. “Could start quite the side hustle selling bits of your clothing, I imagine. I’d buy your shirt. All of them, preferably.” Dorian said breezily. 

Wallace groaned good naturedly. “Come on now, you’re the one always saying how cold it is. And don’t you see me without a shirt often enough in the yard? Leave me be.” 

Dorian pushed open the door to his temporary home, such as it was, and let Wallace go ahead of him. “Don’t be ridiculous, you’d be crushed if I stopped teasing you.”

Wallace looked back at Dorian over his shoulder, smiling, and flopped down on one of the chairs. He glanced up the wall at the crates Dorian had used as makeshift bookcases. “I see your collection is expanding.” 

“Your collection. Well, the Inquisition’s, anyway. Most of these have been paid for by my requisitioning them.” Dorian sat down on the other chair, crossing his legs comfortably. 

Wallace removed one from the crates, examining the title. “Our collection then--you’re as much a member of the Inquisition as I am.” 

“Hmm,” was all Dorian said in response to that. 

“I’ll keep telling people as long as you need me to, just say the word.” Wallace flipped through the book idly. 

Dorian grinned. “I do know a couple nobles wandering through camp who would probably be scandalized to hear of my presence. Could try to convince them?” 

Wallace rolled his eyes and gave Dorian a look. 


	6. Turn and Fall

Dorian leaned slightly to his left, a hand automatically going up to shield his ears as someone screamed loudly to his side, followed by snort-laughing as the group started another round of drinks. Dorian chuckled himself, enjoying his own drink. They’d done it--well, Wallace had. With some help from the mages. Dorian’s gaze flitted to the night sky, stars twinkling between the clouds which were blowing in. No green hues spoiling the view tonight--the sky was calm for the first time in weeks. It was positively lovely, he decided, the flowery thought probably somewhat influenced by the fact that this was his third drink this evening, but he didn’t care. It was a worthy sight to be fawning over. 

“Eyyy! Make room!” One of Bull’s men shouted, jostling into the group of people dancing. 

Wallace and a woman--Dorian thought it was one of the stablehands--just managed to duck out of the way without getting knocked into. The pair disappeared out of Dorian’s sight past one of the tents as Varric appeared by Dorian’s side, sitting next to him on the bench. 

“Enjoying the party, sparkler?” 

Dorian snorted, having given up on shaking the nickname. “I am, actually. You?” 

“Yeah. Surprised to be here, but well, here we are. Gonna make a lame ending to my book if this is it.” 

“What, stopping a time-bending magister, healing a rip in the sky leading to the fade, those aren’t a good foundation for titillating reading?” Dorian leaned back, finishing off his ale with a slight grimace and setting it aside. The taste of southern drink still left something to be desired. 

Varric chuckled. “And then they all lived happily ever after? We’ll see. Ahk. Still waiting for the other foot to drop I think.”

“Aren’t you just a ray of positivity. Thinking of the ‘elder one’ Alexius mentioned?” 

Varric stared into the fire for a moment then roused himself. “Shouldn’t be. I’m letting whoever he is ruin the party and he’s not even here.” 

“I suggest another drink,” Dorian said firmly. 

“Dorian!” 

Dorian jumped slightly, startled, and looked up. Wallace was standing there out of breath with his hand extended. Dorian looked from the hand to Wallace’s face, confused. “What?” 

Wallace rolled his eyes. “Come dance!”

Dorian blinked at him, then chuckled.  _ Why not? _ “Fine. Varric, drink!” Dorian tossed at the dwarf, taking Wallace’s hand and letting himself be pulled up and into the vibrant group. Varric raised his hand in a mock salute, moving to find a glass to do just that. 

“You do enjoy making a spectacle don’t you? Not enough people talking about you tonight, you have to go and dance with the Tevinter?” Dorian asked after a couple turns. He wasn’t sure what they were doing could really be called dancing, but it was enjoyable. 

Wallace laughed, to him it seemed everything was amusing tonight. “It’s been five whole minutes since I heard someone say my name, I had to do something!” 

They took a few loops around the fire before Dorian was stumbling slightly. Three drinks followed by getting spun around like a spintop wasn’t doing much for his coordination. Wallace let him sit back down, saying something Dorian couldn’t quite hear over everyone’s shouting. Wallace looked past Dorian, someone or something catching his eye. 

“See you later,” Wallace winked, patting Dorian’s shoulder as he moved away. 

Dorian turned partially to watch him go--it looked like Cassandra was waving him over--then Adan was in Dorian’s face saying something about food. 

\----

Dorian looked up from helping Minaeve bandage her arm, looking across at Wallace, Cassandra and Cullen talking in hushed, intent voices. He couldn’t hear what they were saying, but they looked grim. Rightly so. It seemed this was the end; and not a happy one. They’d closed the breach; a miracle. And now… now some blighted monster and an army of corrupted Templars had set upon them, and worse; an archdemon? Was it possible? Dorian had anticipated this whole thing was going to be a tragedy. He’d just started to think he might have been mistaken… and now he was quite sober again, and thinking that he’d been right in the first place. 

The strange young man who had arrived to warn them--too late--helped Chancellor Roderick to his feet, limping towards the back of the Chantry. 

Cullen was gripping Wallace’s arm, then turned away and shouted. “Follow the Chancellor--we have a plan!” 

Dorian found himself raising an eyebrow. What plan could they possibly have? His eyes darted to Wallace, who was moving swiftly away from the others and… he was opening the front door… where the hell was he going? Dorian rose to his feet, moving to follow him. Wallace saw him and his intent expression changed; he winked. Then his face seemed to go serious again, and he gestured Dorian towards Cassandra as he moved outside, closing the door behind himself. Cassandra, speaking to Cullen alone now and making a terrible face, saw Dorian walking towards her. “Dorian, come.” 

Dorian frowned. “You saw him go out there yes? We have to go help--” 

Cassandra cut him off. “We will help by getting the people to safety.” 

“Safety--what on earth is going on? What’s happening?” Dorian’s frown deepened. 

Cullen turned back from addressing the room. “Chancellor Roderick says he knows an old path--overgrown. Trevelyan is going to make a distraction and we’re going to get everyone out that we can.” Cullen’s voice was low. He raised it, shouting something to Blackwall as he moved to help some of the wounded. 

“Distraction--against that? Alone? Are you all mad he’ll…”  _ Ah. _ Cassandra’s tight, immovable expression said that they did know. They all knew, including him, and he’d gone anyway.  _ Damn him _ . Varric was right about heroes in these sorts of stories. Dorian swore. As he looked to the door Cassandra reached out and gripped his arm, firm but not painful. 

“There is nothing we can do except make it count, Dorian. He chose this, respect it.” 

Dorian stood still, then turned away, returning to Minaeve to help her to her feet.  _ Venhedis! _


	7. Rise with the Sun

Before tonight Wallace had never really thought much about the cold. Sure, he could feel it, but he’d never felt threatened by it or even particularly uncomfortable. Not that he was uncomfortable thanks to it now; which was probably very bad. He was pretty sure his hands and feet were numb. He wished his side was, but he could still feel his ribs grinding like a damned cow chewing its cud with every movement forward. Where was he even going? It had been a while since the last time he’d seen any trace of the others. 

Frustration and spite spurred him on as much as anything. Somehow, some-fucking-how he hadn’t been eaten by that archdemon, or impaled by that crazy, corrupted magister and his red lyrium horrors, or even died in the avalanche he’d caused. He’d survived all that; he wasn’t about to let some broken ribs and a chilly breeze be the end of him. He laughed, low and a tinged hysterical, as he nearly tripped over a tree branch buried in the snow. 

He was not going to die in a snowdrift; he refused! 

\----

Dorian moved from one group to the next, lighting fires as needed. Honestly there wasn’t much left for him to do, but he couldn’t seem to alight anywhere. Typically when they were in the wilderness it was Wallace who made room for him but…

Dorian looked up at a hand on his shoulder. 

“Come have a seat, dear.” Lady Vivienne said; somehow managing to make it both a command and a gentle request at the same time. Dorian followed her, sitting down and pulling his cloak around him as he stared into the fire. It was quiet--no one was talking unless they had to. The boisterous chatter of just a few hours ago seemed a distant memory. 

“Here,” Vivienne offered him a cup of soup. He had no idea where it had come from, but he was hungry and didn’t object. The two mages both looked up at movement, watching Leliana and one of her people walking briskly through the camp. Dorian wondered vaguely what they could be doing--perhaps they were simply walking, as he had been. 

Vivienne leaned forward, grabbing another stick from the dwindling pile and throwing it onto the fire. She was sitting primly, but Dorian could read in her eyes a worried focus. She was as concerned as any of them, it seemed. What on earth were they going to do now? No Herald, no Haven, and seemingly no hope. They’d survived the attack, but for what purpose? To limp a ways, bleeding like a wounded animal until they finally were crushed? Somehow this elder one had materialized an army out of nowhere--how were they to combat that? 

“Water?” 

Dorian glanced to the side; Blackwall was standing there with a bucket, taking it around and offering drinks to people. 

Dorian shook his head, elevating his soup slightly to indicate it was enough.

“Thank you, no,” Vivienne replied. 

There was shouting somewhere beyond the perimeter of the camp. Dorian and Vivienne both stood with varying degrees of urgency. Blackwall frowned, lowering the bucket. “What now!” Vivienne muttered. 

The shouting seemed to ripple through the camp. Vivienne started walking that direction, picking up her staff as she moved. Blackwall and Dorian were hot on her heels, weaving between the few tents and animals and groups of people huddling together for warmth. 

“Andraste’s ashes…” Blackwall breathed, stopping. The others stopped, too. It was… it was Wallace! 

_ How--how can he be…  _ Dorian blinked, disbelieving. 

He was clearly flagging, leaning on Cassandra for support as Cullen yelled at people to get out of the way. They were aimed at the makeshift tent for the wounded. Wallace was holding his side weakly, favoring it. 

Dorian started walking to intercept them, Vivienne moved with him. Solas was ahead of them, coming from the other direction. Cullen waved Solas into the tent, then turned to help Cassandra get Wallace the last few feet. As they passed out of sight Cullen stopped in the entry, catching the movement of the others approaching. 

“What happened, Commander?” Vivienne asked directly. 

Cullen held up a hand for all of them to stop. “Leliana’s scouts found him--Maker’s blood I don’t know how he got here but…” 

“Shit. I don’t believe it,” Blackwall said simply. 

Cullen shook his head, clearly stunned himself. None of them had thought they’d ever see him again. And here he was just… walking back to them. Limping or no it was a… a bloody miracle, and they all felt it. 

Leliana ran up just then, and behind her the volume in the camp seemed to rise; it was full of voices again. 

\----

Wallace stared up at the canvas, head pounding slightly from both tension and exhaustion. First this Corypheus, then the struggle to try and find the others in the mountains--how he’d managed to catch up to them with each step seeming to stab a knife into his side, he honestly had no idea--and then having to shout Cassandra, Cullen and the rest down just to get some peace in camp... Mother Giselle had managed that better than he, and more. He pushed that thought away; whether he was chosen or not, he wasn’t prepared to contemplate again just now. Chosen, he scoffed. What did it even mean? Did it mean he couldn’t fail--wouldn’t die until whatever purpose the Maker had for him was fulfilled? It certainly hadn’t granted him an impervious form, he laughed silently to himself as he tried to turn on the cot, wincing at his broken ribs. 

He stared across the tent, most of the other wounded had finally managed to drift off to sleep it seemed by the noise level--once the people had stopped singing and chattering. He wondered vaguely what time it was. He both wished for morning and dreaded it. He wanted to do something--get moving to wherever Solas had eluded to, but he also knew it was going to be a shitty day. His side guaranteed that, and the lack of sleep he was pretty sure he was heading for was going to add to it. 

What the hell did it mean to be chosen, anyway? His family believed in the Maker, he’d been raised reciting the chant, knew the histories taught by the Chantry. All that knowledge wasn’t providing comfort. He was still shaken by Mother Giselle’s comparison to Andraste in their conversation last week. He had no objections to serving the Maker, but he’d also never had his sights on anything other than a quiet life. Being propped up as some Herald of Andraste, having people look at him like he was holy… he chuckled again. Everything--the world--was insane. Wallace sighed and pushed the thoughts from his mind. Worrying about things beyond his control and possibly even comprehension was a waste of time. Instead he started thinking about their mount situation. It might not be fun but he could walk come morning, some of the others might not be able to. 

\----

Wallace started awake, sitting up then regretting the quick movement.  _ Idiot. _ He took a couple breaths and sat up more carefully, looking around. It was light out--and people were clearly up and well under way packing. Why hadn’t someone woken him earlier? He snorted at himself, he wouldn’t have bothered him either, if he were them. He stood gingerly, making sure of just how he felt before taking another breath and walking out of the tent. 

He blinked at the brightness--sun on snow--and looked around. Animals were being loaded and people were running here and there. Where were Cassandra and the other leaders?

“Well well, good morning.” 

Wallace turned, surprised by the close voice. “Ah, Dorian. Good morning.” 

Dorian gave him a curious expression, as if he were studying a painting, looking for an artist’s signature. “How are you feeling?” 

Wallace gave him a slightly cryptic look. “Oh, lovely.” 

Dorian closed his eyes, smiling as he lowered his head for a moment. “Want me to fetch Solas?” 

Wallace shook his head. “That’s alright, I’m on the mend. Just need some time now. How’re you? How’s everyone holding up?” 

Dorian adjusted the pile of blankets he was carrying, resting them on his hip as he looked out across the snow at the people. “Considering… I think they’re alright. Just need to find somewhere to go now, then we can worry about the rest.” 

“And you?” Wallace prompted. 

Dorian turned, giving him an obviously fake bewildered look. “Me? I’m fine. Why, don’t I look fine?” 

Wallace tried not to smile too wide. “A little weather-beaten, honestly, but still quite handsome.” 

Dorian sniffed. “That was a backhanded compliment if ever I heard one, I could say the same of you.” 

Wallace laughed, cutting off as it jostled his insides. “Given the circumstances, I’d take that as a full compliment.” 

“You have lower standards than me.” Dorian adjusted his stack of blankets again. “There’s breakfast over there,” he nodded as he talked. “And I’m not telling you where Cullen or any of them are until you’ve eaten something, so don’t ask. Go on,” Dorian continued, anticipating what Wallace was opening his mouth to say. 

Wallace snapped his mouth shut for a moment. “Fine, have it your way.” 

“I usually do,” Dorian answered. 


	8. Inquisitor's Path

Wallace took a deep breath and then blew it out slowly, adjusting his belt as he finished dressing. He looked down at the clothes, the buttons emblazoned with the Inquisition’s symbol. How had Josephine even managed to get buttons like that so quickly, he wondered. He took another breath, mentally preparing himself for the day ahead. The last week had been a whirlwind. Solas had led them to an abandoned, though amazingly preserved, fortress in the mountains; Skyhold. It was breathtaking, standing tall and strong with an incredible view of the surrounding area. It’s walls were thick and sturdy, only a few places broken down. It was the perfect place to start rebuilding the Inquisition, and now suddenly that task fell to him. 

Cassandra had started it, he felt it only made sense she lead it but… even she had seemed certain it should be him. And the people--they were… Wallace shook his head. He was used to leading, was groomed for it, but this was beyond anything he’d ever anticipated. Again he tried to put the larger issues from his mind and focus on the tangible; soldiers, weapons, armor, alliances. Those were things he understood, and things he could manage. They wanted him to lead, alright. He’d lead. He braced one hand on the wardrobe, raising his leg so he could reach the buckles on his boot. He dropped his foot as someone knocked on the door downstairs, then ran up the steps. 

“Inquisitor? Lady Josephine is looking for you--Lord Imult has arrived early.” 

Wallace smiled fakely. “Thank you. I’ll be right down.” 

The runner turned and disappeared down the stairs, the door shutting in the distance. Wallace turned his face skyward and muttered something between a prayer and a curse. 

\----

“So this is where you’ve been hiding?” 

Dorian turned at Wallace’s voice, smiling over his shoulder before pushing the book he’d been holding back onto the shelf and turning completely. “I’ve hardly been hiding. I’ve just been organizing the library some.”

“Indeed. Where’d all this come from? You didn’t have this much at Haven.” Wallace looked over the shelves. He’d guess none of this was from Haven; they hadn’t had time to move things like books--they’d barely got the people and some basic supplies out. 

“All over. As you know, people keep coming to join up. And see you, of course. Many have brought things to lend or donate. Some have come from the mages, we keep getting more stragglers who weren’t at Redcliffe but have heard the Inquisition is friendly, and of course nobles seeking your favor who can’t make it here. Lots of them have been sending gifts as well.” 

“Huh…” Wallace traced the edges of a few books with his fingers, glancing over titles. 

Dorian watched him for a moment, looking him up and down subtly. “Nice jacket. Is that Antivan?” 

Wallace gave a low, quiet chuckle. “Ask Josephine, she’s taken over my wardrobe.” 

“Well she’s doing a splendid job. Very fetching.” Dorian adjusted his posture. Besides some brief interactions on the march up to Skyhold and a few passing greetings in the halls he hadn’t had a chance to really speak to Wallace since… well, since before Haven was destroyed, really. He’d been overwhelmed with tasks since they’d arrived it seemed. Initially it was just helping with everyone getting settled; they were all running around like crazy for the first few days here it seemed, then he’d been declared Inquisitor and… “How are you holding up?” 

Wallace gave Dorian a tight smile. “Ribs are almost all healed, thankfully. Now it’s just this business of... “ Wallace took a breath and made a face, unsure what ‘this business’ even was. 

“Saving the world? Again?” Dorian supplied. 

Wallace let the breath go, chuckling. “Don’t say that, you’ll intimidate me. I’ve got to at least look like I know what I’m doing.” 

Dorian scoffed. “You look marvelous. Faced down an archdemon and just walked it off? Splendid performance. We’ll have this Corypheus taken care of in a snap.” Dorian did snap, for emphasis, and Wallace laughed. 

“I appreciate the vote of confidence.” 

Dorian shrugged one shoulder as if it was a given. “Really though, we’re probably all going to die. But hey, it’s not all on you, you know. You may have the fancy title now but you’ve still got _ us _ . Cassandra is as intent on finding answers as ever, Bull as mad as ever, Leliana as inscrutable, and then there’s me; and I naturally grow more charming and,” Dorian knocked his knuckles against the bookshelf next to him. “Well informed everyday.” 

Wallace grinned. “Naturally. Thank you. And I’m as pleased as ever to have that support. More, in fact.” 

Dorian was actually a bit taken aback by the earnest way Wallace said that, and so looked up at the shelves, making a satisfied sound as he spotted a book he’d been reading earlier. He pulled it out and flipped through a few pages. “I’m glad to hear it. I’d hate to think all my efforts weren’t being appreciated--you know how I thrive on praise.” 

Wallace gave him a lopsided smile. “Indeed.” Wallace turned, leaning back against the bookcase. “So, oh well informed one, what’s that one say?” He nodded to the book Dorian was leafing through. 

“What? You want me to paraphrase the whole thing?” 

Wallace leaned his head back, looking distantly towards the ceiling. “Why not? Regale me.” 

Dorian leaned over, bumping his shoulder into Wallace’s gently. “Wallace… After all this time, don’t tell me you can’t read,” he said teasingly. 

Wallace burst out laughing. 

\----

Dorian rolled his shoulders. Skyhold had many advantages over Haven, but one thing that had not improved were the beds. He was going to end up with a permanent crick in his neck at this rate. Tonight it was so bad he’d decided to just get back up and return to his reading chair; even it was more comfortable. Dorian frowned as he topped the stairs leading to the library. Someone had been doing some research, clearly. There were books stacked on the table that he hadn’t left out. Pack of children, couldn’t even put their own books away? Dorian skimmed the sides, curious what whoever it was had been looking for, when he heard a sound from the rookery upstairs. Leliana was working late. Just as well, he was curious if there were any updates on contacting the Magister he’d mentioned to her. He took the last flight of stairs two at a time, putting on a charming affect as he exited the stairwell and stopped. Leliana wasn’t here.

“Wallace? What are you doing up here at this time of night?” Dorian asked, affect dropping as he approached. 

Wallace started, not expecting him. “Hi.” He gave Dorian a forced smile.

Dorian stopped, sensing his mood was off. “Something wrong?” 

Wallace sat back. “Nothing new. Just…” Wallace made a frustrated sound. 

Dorian started moving again, sitting down on one of the crates nearby. “I’ve been told I have pretty keen ears, if you want to talk about it,” he quipped, though his tone was genuine. 

Wallace gave him a sideways look and smiled more sincerely, though it was tired and strained. “Just checking in with Leliana.” He gestured towards the door where she had left to give him some space. “You know she’s been looking for my brother since before Haven. I’d hoped with us being here and expanding that…” He shook his head. “No word. Bloody bastard better just be keeping his head low and not--” Wallace made another frustrated sound. 

Dorian gave him a tight, sympathetic look. “I’m sorry. He may yet surface; we’ve had plenty of people turn up to join.”

Wallace nodded, pressing one hand to his mouth thoughtfully. He’d been hoping that since the Inquisition had begun, and it was starting to be hard to hold onto. He tried to tell himself travel was difficult and dangerous now; that Thedas was large, he could be hiding anywhere from the Templars and now Corypheus’ red templars, but as the weeks stretched into months he found that hoping felt more and more like grasping at straws. Wallace sighed, rubbing at his eyes tiredly. 

“Anything I can do?” Dorian asked softly. 

Wallace looked at him for a moment, then pushed himself up and walked over, gesturing for Dorian to walk with him. “Distract me?” 

Dorian stood, smirking. “I am very distracting.” 


	9. Well Ain't that a Kick in the Head

Dorian came and sat down roughly on the log next to Wallace, pulling a blanket over his cloak and tight around his shoulders. “I really hate you, you know. This is torturous, and I don’t appreciate it at all.” Dorian leaned his staff next to him and blew on his hands, then held them out towards the fire Wallace was adding to. 

Wallace just silently grinned as he poked at the fire. 

“Don’t. I can see you laughing.” Dorian tucked his hands back inside his layers, rubbing them against his sides hoping the friction might warm them. 

“You can see me laughing?” Wallace repeated incredulously. 

“Yes!” 

“I’m not laughing!” Wallace protested. 

“Yes you are, in your head. I can see it in your eyes. If you’re going to be insensitive you can go help Blackwall gather firewood.” 

Wallace did laugh now, pushing himself up. He stepped back behind the log, bending down and patting Dorian’s shoulder. “Could’ve just asked for a hug, but I guess I’ll go get more firewood now.” 

Dorian adjusted his blankets, blushing slightly. Honestly, Wallace was a terrible flirt and it was infuriating. The more so because he was actually pleasant to be around. Impossible, attractive oaf. 

Vivienne took Wallace’s place, adjusting her furs. She glanced sideways at Dorian. “My dear you look positively miserable. I must take you to my tailor the next time we’re in Val Royeaux.” 

“I’m told this is bear hide--as warm is it gets,” Dorian said. 

“Perhaps, but it’s hardly attractive. Mustn’t let yourself slip, dear.” Vivienne carefully pulled off her white glove, leaning over to add another bit of wood to the fire. 

Dorian chuckled. “I don’t see you giving fashion advice to Blackwall or Wallace.” 

Vivienne pursed her lips. “Yes, well, Blackwall is a lost cause. Lord Trevelyan…” she tilted her head slightly. “His style is unfortunately more… what one might call ‘rugged’. Not what I would pick but it works for him, as much as it can for anyone. Don’t you think?” 

“Hmm? What?” Dorian asked. 

“That is suits him?” Vivienne said with a slight tone of amusement. 

Dorian shifted, giving her a look. What on--was she teasing him? About Wallace? “No!” Dorian said emphatically. 

Vivienne raised an eyebrow. “Oh. I see. Well, don’t tell him, I’m quite certain he thinks it works for him, and he’s got enough to worry about without us knocking his self-confidence right now. Pass me that stick, won’t you dear?” 

Dorian handed her the stick and she poked at the fire to shift a log, smiling to herself. 

\----

Dorian wasn’t sure how he felt about the fact he no longer was disgusted to look at red templar horrors. They had become ‘normal’; something he fought so often it didn’t even strike him as strange anymore to see red lyrium jutting out of people’s elbows and backs. Certainly accepting such a thing as normal couldn’t be healthy, but then, it did make fighting them easier when he wasn’t cringing constantly. 

Dorian glanced to the side, checking Vivienne and Blackwall’s positions. They were doing alright--Blackwall handling the big one and Vivienne picking off anything that tried to interfere with him. Well; big one being relative. Dorian didn’t know what to call the giant, crystallized creature a few yards in front of him, they’d only seen such a thing once before, back at Haven when they were fighting to set off the trebuchets. He’d hoped to never see such a thing again. 

Whether Wallace was as wary of the creature as Dorian, it was impossible to say. He was pushed up, using the thing’s size against it and fighting at its legs, keeping it focused on him and moving about in tight circles so Dorian could throw spells at it uninterrupted. It was interesting to Dorian, who spent so much time at the back, able to have a good view of the whole fight, to watch Wallace switch between being, well, Wallace, and being a warrior. Wallace was naturally loud, but outside of combat it was him loudly making jokes, praising people and offering flattery, and generally just making himself the center of attention in the manner in which he’d been raised to do. 

Wallace on the field, in combat, was aggressive, focused, shouting taunts and frankly, reckless. He claimed it was him making himself a more desirable target so that the ranged fighters--Dorian, Sera, the mages and archers he chose to fight alongside him--would be less threatened and have better openings. Dorian wasn’t sure he approved of the strategy, but it seemed to work. Not that he had much to compare it to. Before joining up with the Inquisition he’d fought almost exclusively alone. 

“Haha! Goodbye!” Wallace shouted as the monster finally fell, lyrium shattering and bits flying. Dorian took a couple steps back, minding his footing on the ice, and looked towards Blackwall and Vivienne again. They had gotten aways off--the templars were nearly routed, at this camp at least. Dorian raised his staff, throwing a fireball at one of the stragglers. 

Wallace was turning to join them as well, surveying the field quickly as he moved. He half-stepped, turning back. “Dorian!” 

Dorian’s eyes shot to Wallace, who was gesturing with his sword. Dorian turned, staff just--accidentally--intercepting the sword swinging at his side. He staggered back, staff cracking, and fell to the ground. _Kaffas!_ He gritted his teeth and pushed himself up on his elbows, dragging himself backward across the snow as the templar moved after him, sword raised again. 

"Ahhh!” Wallace slammed into his--its--side with his shield, throwing the creature down, and drove his sword through its chest and into the hard-frozen ground beneath it. He drug the weapon back, panting from his sprint to Dorian’s position, and looked at Dorian, face pale. “Are you hurt?” he asked, stepping next to him. 

Dorian sat up fully, waving him off. “Fine--I’m fine!” He craned his neck, looking over his shoulder towards Vivienne and Blackwall. They were jogging back, no more enemies in sight. 

Wallace let out a breath, resting his hands on his knees. “Shit--” Where had that one come from? How had he missed it?

Dorian brushed some snow off his arms, reaching for his all but broken staff, and hefted himself up. Wallace stood and put his hand on Dorian’s arm. “You’re sure you’re alright?” 

Dorian nodded, flashing him a smile as Vivienne and Blackwall reached them. 

“You two alright?” Blackwall asked, huffing. 

Wallace nodded, looking at Dorian again. 

“We’re fine--well, I am. Don’t know how your lungs haven’t burst breathing this cold air like that,” Dorian teased Wallace, continuing to brush snow from his clothes. 

Wallace gave him a slightly weak, lopsided grin before giving his attention to wiping his sword down.

Dorian gave him a quick look, wanting to thank him but suddenly feeling embarrassed to do it in front of the others. 

“We should keep moving--we’ll be losing the light soon,” Vivienne said, adjusting her grip on her staff and stridding away. 

\----

“Here,” Wallace tapped Dorian’s shoulder, holding a spare belt. “Will this work?” 

Dorian looked up from examining his damaged staff. “Ah. Thank you. Obviously not a permanent fix, but for the moment.” Dorian took the proffered belt and began wrapping it around the staff’s shaft. 

Wallace sat down, watching him. Though really, he wasn’t paying that much attention. He was thinking about earlier; when he’d seen the templar behind Dorian. He’d run as hard as he could, afraid he wasn’t going to make it in time--he’d been scared. It wasn’t like it was the first time something like that had happened. Wallace always worried about the others in combat, especially the non-warriors. Hell, he’d always kept an eye on people even back on simple hunts around his family’s estate in Ostwick. Onna was always saying he was a mother hen but… this had felt different; desperate--he hadn’t been thinking, just reacting. He’d feel terribly guilty if anything happened to any of his companions while he had the power to stop it, but Dorian… if he was… 

Despite having apparently little in common, Dorian had somehow become Wallace’s best friend. He valued his opinion, and enjoyed his company. He was supportive, but also honest. He teased mercilessly, both Wallace and everyone else, but never cruelly. He was smart and knew it, but always open to learning and actively seeking new information on things. Wallace admired him; joining the Inquisition on his own, speaking openly about the things he loved--and disagreed with--about his country and people. He was inspiring, and fun. 

“You should hire someone to paint me, if you’re going to stare so much. What must it be like for you when I’m not around?” Dorian said, pulling on the knot in the belt to make it stay. 

Wallace reached over and took the staff, giving the bit of leather an extra firm tug. “Agony,” he said. 

Dorien snorted, taking the staff back and setting it down by his side. “Thank you, by the way. I didn’t say it earlier.” 

Wallace shrugged. “You’re always watching my back, just returning the favor.” 

“And what a nice backside it is,” Dorian smirked. 

Wallace snickered. “If you say so, it must be true.” 

“And smart too, my my. How is it you haven’t been snapped up yet?” Dorian asked, leaning back. 

Wallace moved one shoulder, turning to look back at Dorian. “Too busy. But maybe I’ll start working on it.” 

Dorian missed the look in the semidarkness, and spoke ignoring the uncomfortably tight feeling in his gut. “ _Oh_? Got your eye on someone?” 

Wallace turned back, humor entering his voice. “Maybe.” 

Dorian tsked. “You’re being evasive. Fine, don’t gossip with me. Go share with…” Dorian waved a hand, considering. “Solas or Cassandra, they seem like the types who’d enjoy that.” 

Wallace laughed. “Actually, Cassandra has quite the romantic streak. Don’t tell her I told you; she’ll try to kill us both.” Wallace turned back again, voice low despite the fact Cassandra was miles away at Skyhold. “She reads Varric’s books, did you know?” 

Dorian tilted his head back, laughing. “Actually--I did. Caught her with one. Tried to read it myself. Couldn’t manage it.” 


	10. Grace

“Dorian?” 

Dorian turned from the shelves, smiling at the sight of Wallace. “Ah, good timing. I have just--hmm? What’s that?” Dorian glanced at the bit of paper in Wallace’s hand. 

“A letter for you.” Wallace extended it. 

“Oh? For me? Is it a naughty letter? A--” Dorian cut off, eyes scanning the words. He frowned. 

“It was given to Mother Giselle; who passed it to me. They asked me to take you to the tavern but I wasn’t comfortable not telling you so…” 

Dorian inhaled sharply. “Well, thank you very much for that.” It came out harsh, he didn’t intend it to, but he was focused. He paced the floor a moment, reading. “I know my son? Please! What my father knows of me would barely fill a thimble! How much would you bet this ‘retainer’ was just hired to knock me on the head and drag me back to Tevinter?” 

Wallace raised an eyebrow. He knew from previous conversations that Dorian did not get on well with his family, but there was a great distance in his mind between ‘not getting on’ and actual violence. Not that he was so naive to think that just because they were family such a thing was impossible. Wallace frowned now. “Would they do that?” 

Dorian looked up, surprised by the serious tone. “No, I don’t think so.” Dorian paused. “Though I wouldn’t put it past my father, either. Come then, let’s go meet this retainer and I can tell him where my father can shove his ‘wit’s end’. If he does turn out to be just a hired thug, you can beat him senseless and  _ then  _ we’ll send him back to my father with my compliments. You’re good at that.” 

Wallace gave Dorian an uncertain expression, not sure how seriously he should be taking this situation. “Dorian--” 

“What?” Dorian snapped defensively. 

Wallace raised his hands placatingly. “Relax, I’m coming. I just… you don’t have to explain if you don’t want but I’d like to know what I’m walking into. Should I seriously be expecting a fight or…?” 

Dorian gave him a look, betraying a hint of vulnerability. “Honestly… I don’t know.” 

Wallace grimaced and nodded. “Alright. I’ll go let the stables know to expect us. I’ll meet you down there after lunch?” 

Dorian agreed, crumpling up the letter and stuffing it in a pocket. 

\----

Dorian sat, turning a mostly empty glass in his hind absently. He wasn’t sure how to feel about everything; he’d spent last evening and the whole of today lost in thought, and finally decided to just try pushing the whole thing from his mind. He wasn’t going to reconcile all his feelings about his family in a day, or years, probably. But it was… a start. It was… comforting, in a way, to see something even close to regret in his father’s eyes. If he could regret his actions… maybe. Well, Dorian tipped the glass back to finish off his drink, then set it aside on the windowsill. 

“Hey.” 

Dorian looked up, smiling automatically at Wallace leaning against the bookcase. It was a bit startling how effortlessly the smile came; but then, Dorian couldn’t shake it either. Wallace had called him brave, looked at him like he thought Dorian was someone to be admired and… and Dorian couldn’t ignore how it made him feel to see someone look at him like that. He felt… worthy. Of what, he didn’t know, but it was a nice feeling. And more, Dorian let his eyes drop, not unaware of how his heart seemed to beat faster at the sight of him. That part… was possibly dangerous, but not something he was going to think about just now. 

“Raiding my pantries again?” Wallace nodded towards the nearly empty wine bottle. 

Dorian sat up, taking his leg off the chair’s armrest, and turned in his seat to face Wallace properly. “I am--though it is still shocking to me how your wine cellar manages to be so lacking in quality. I hate to say it, but I really must have words with Josephine. It is a disgrace.” 

Wallace shook his head, laughing quietly. “Want company? Or would you prefer to finish it off alone?” He gave Dorian a measured look, trying to gauge if his apparent good humor was genuine or a front. He’d been upset enough last evening, and after checking in with him Wallace had left him alone to sort through things. 

“I’m always delighted to have your company, my friend.” The affected compliment broke down into an earnest one, which Dorian quickly decided not to check himself for. Wallace had earned his trust, and more. Dorian turned, pouring himself another drink, and then extended the bottle to Wallace. “I don’t have another cup so you’ll have to make do.” 

Wallace took the bottle and sat down on the footstool, giving Dorian a look before taking a drink. He cupped his hands around the bottle, resting it between his knees. He searched for the right thing to say, to break the mild awkwardness of having been exposed to so personal a part of Dorian’s life suddenly. Dorian did it for him. 

“I hear you’re off to the Emerald Graves tomorrow. Aren’t you going to invite me along?” 

Wallace leaned back against the bookshelf behind him. “If you want to come, I’d be more than pleased to have you.” 

“Of course you would, I’m pleasing. Unlike certain people--” Dorian grunted, leaning forward awkwardly to snatch a book from the table. Dorian gave Wallace a look as he raised the book, which Wallace recognized as his ‘I’m about to tear someone apart intellectually’ look. “Listen to this chap, would you?” he cracked the book open to his marker and began reading a passage for Wallace. 

\----

“Well, it certainly lives up to the name.” Dorian squinted upwards at the trees. The canopy here was thick enough even the light appeared greenish. Not in the sickly way of the breach, but bright. 

Wallace nodded to the Inquisition scout who’d just finished giving their report, walking over next to Dorian. “Indeed.” Wallace folded his arms, looking around. He preferred a bit more sky, this place felt… close, somehow. But he doubted the whole forest was this thick. Wallace turned back, batting the top of one of the tents. “Come on! Wakey wakey! We need to get moving before it’s time to come back for the night!” 

“Auuua--shut up! You’re like a bloody screeching owl!” Sera kicked at the top of her tent where his hand had been. 

“It’s pretty… but sad.” 

Dorian jumped, startled by Cole as usual. “Ah, good morning, Cole.” 

“Morning.” 

Sera crawled out of her tent, scowling as she stood and stretched her back. “I think I’m allergic to green. Ughh,” she said as she walked over to grab a bite of breakfast. 

Wallace let her get something, then declared it was time to be moving and strode off into the trees. 

“Where’re you going?” Sera shouted, mouth half-full. 

“Scouts say there’s a rift this way, come on!” Wallace called back. 

“No horses?” Cole asked, following on Wallace’s heels. 

“Woods are too thick, it’ll be faster on foot. Come on, last one gets to deal with the despair demon if there’s one.” 

“Not happening! You’re the warrior--if you didn’t want to handle the ugly ones should’ve brought beardy or the Seeker!” Sera called after him. 

The group clambered through the underbrush for the better part of an hour. Cole seemed to stay somewhere off to the left most of the time; Wallace was constantly looking around and calling to make sure he was still close, and Sera was trailing in the back. There was no need to check if she was still around, as an occasional expletive directed at nature was sure to find their ears. 

Dorian followed just behind Wallace, taking advantage of him hacking through the thicker bits of brush. 

“Ow!” Dorian hissed as he scratched his hand on some sort of thorny bush. 

Wallace glanced back. “Alright?” 

Dorian glared at the spot, making sure there wasn’t something stuck in his hand. “Oh yes--this is one of the nicer places you’ve taken me actually. I should be thanking you!” Dorian said sarcastically. 

Wallace turned forward, hiding an amused smile. “You invited yourself, I seem to recall.” 

“My mistake.” Dorian shook his hand, trying to alleviate the stinging. 

“Come now--you get to enjoy watching my backside at least. You did say it was nice, didn’t you?” Wallace joked. 

Dorian chuckled. “You shouldn’t tease someone standing three feet behind you who can throw fireballs, you know.” 

“Pretty sure fireballs would be a very bad idea in here,” Wallace commented, lowering himself under a tree branch. 

Wallace froze; there was a sound in the distance. Yelling? Fighting. Dorian had stopped as well, and moved forward after a moment to crouch next to Wallace. “Trouble.” 

“They’re fighting,” Cole said, appearing at Wallace’s left hand. 

“Let Sera know, Cole. C’mon,” Wallace moved his head, indicating Dorian should stay close. 

Wallace dropped to a crouch again a few feet ahead--the fighting was coming their way. 

“Doesn’t sound like demons,” Dorian said. Movement--someone crashing through the trees. An elf. “Mage.” Dorian observed. The woman would probably crash right past them without ever seeing them if they stayed still. Behind her a ways they spotted the now familiar shimmer of red lyrium. Templars. 

“C’mon, let’s at least try.” Wallace stood, not bothering to try talking to the woman. The mages were wary enough of everyone these days-actions were more important. He rushed past her, startling her so much she lost her footing and ended up sitting on the ground, and drew his sword, intercepting the pair of templars; if they could even be called that anymore, really. 

The woman turned, wild eyed, as Dorian stood as well, throwing a spear of ice past her and over Wallace’s shoulder. He agreed that fire was not a wise choice here. They dispatched the two quickly enough, as Cole and Sera caught up. 

“What’s up?” Sera called, taking in the scene. “Ah.” 

“You--you’re a mage!” The woman said, looking at Dorian. 

“Indeed I am. Are you hurt?” he offered her a hand, which she hesitantly took, and helped her to her feet. 

Wallace replaced his sword in its sheath, coming back slowly so as not to appear threatening. 

“Quiet, comfortable, safe? Never safe. Where do they come from? Run, tell them to run!” Cole whispered. 

The woman gave him an odd look, but Dorian caught her attention again quickly. “I said, are you hurt?” 

She shook her head. 

“You’re safe; we’re friends. I’m Dorian. You are?” Dorian asked, and gave Wallace a smile and rolled his eyes as Sera walked behind him, muttering something about the Maker’s balls and poking one of the dead templars with an arrow. 

“You fought the templars...” the woman said, clearly rattled. 

“Yes. Who’re you? What are you doing out here all by yourself?” Wallace asked, though he wasn’t all that surprised. Enough mages had been scattered by the rebellion and the war. 

“I’m not alone--I wasn’t! Can--will you help? We were camping when they found us--the others, I don’t know what’s happened to them. We might be able to help them!” The woman explained quickly, glancing down at Wallace’s shield; it bore the Inquisition’s symbol. 

Wallace nodded. “Of course--which way?” he asked urgently. Regular templars were efficient enough at killing mages; these ones were worse. 

The woman pointed, starting back the way she’d been running. “We were camped at the river--found a cave there. They must have seen the smoke!” she started crashing back through the trees with the others following her. 

“How is it you always find us trouble, Inky?” Sera shouted. The woman glanced back, between Sera and Wallace, and at his hand. They had been getting closer to the rift they were seeking; if you paid attention you could catch a glimpse of pale, green snatches of light emanating from his palm. 

“You’re--the Inquisitor?” She said between breaths. 

“Yes,” Wallace said, wincing as a twig smacked him in the face as they ran. 

“You’re--Edmund’s brother?” 

Wallace nearly tripped, focusing on the woman. “You’ve seen Edmund?!” 

“Yes--we’ve all been together since the conclave.”

“He’s here?!” 

“At the river--” the woman gestured ahead, and Wallace started sprinting without thinking. He should’ve waited for her to show him the way, but nothing was in his mind just now except _ run _ . Edmund was close--and red templars. Maker’s breath if he were to come this far, get this close, only to be too late! That could not be, he would not let it be! He ran. 

There was shouting behind him, if he heard it it didn’t register. He burst from the treeline with only a moment to see that he was nearing the edge of the embankment before he was sliding down it. Lucky it wasn’t too steep or he might’ve injured himself. He slid, got up, and stopped at the water’s edge looking up and down the streambed. No sign--which way? 

_ Andraste--help me!  _

Sound--combat? Smoke in the air. Wallace turned upstream, pebbles sliding under his feet and slowing him as he rushed madly forward, just as the others emerged from the woods. 

“Wallace! Blast!” Dorian slid down the embankment after him, slightly more controlled, as Sera and Cole started running along the top of it. The woman was a bit further behind, yelling at them to go right. 

Wallace saw people--two of them; not templars. They heard him coming, turned abruptly. He slid to a stop, raising his hands as he looked frantically between them. 

“I’m not here to fight you!” As if that should convince them.  _ Shit. _ He’d fucked up--he should’ve waited for the woman, or Dorian. How many mages had attacked them simply because they were too afraid or suspicious of strangers? 

“Wait! Aeren, stop!” 

Wallace looked to his right, still wary of the fire spell he recognized the mage had started to cast. It was forgotten in an instant. “Edmund!” 

“Wallace!” the younger man shouted, slipping down from the top of the embankment and darting towards him. 

Wallace unfroze, wisely or not, and met him halfway, lifting him off the ground in an embrace. He closed his eyes, hugging him tightly and wanting to cry. 

The rest of the party came running up behind, the woman still further back shouting at her companions to stand down. Dorian looked from Wallace to the young man he was holding, then looked at Sera and Cole. Cole smiled. 


	11. Horizons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, as many recently, I've had a drastic change in my employment situation. Short version--I thought the temporary job I had was going to be permanent starting August if not sooner and it turns out it's... not. I'm gonna be out of work in three weeks time so let's just say I'm STRESSED. :) That being said, I've not got the brain power to continue writing this story. I had 14 chapters already written before I ever started posting and intended to shoot for 20 but I'm gonna cut it to 13. The story has a decent stopping point there and I don't wanna leave it just hanging so that's the plan. Hopefully what does get posted will bring some joy. Blessings to everyone in similar situations, I know I'm not alone.

“So--you’re a spirit?” Edmund asked incredulously, looking at Cole. He glanced up as Wallace came and sat down by him, handing him a bowl of soup. They’d made it back to the campsite, after closing the nearby rift, and were now catching up. Edmund and his traveling companions had been going to the conclave--but had been unable to reach it due to a group of bandits who had taken up raiding along the road they’d been using. Luck or providence, Wallace was grateful. By the time they’d gotten around them the conclave had already been destroyed, and they’d been forced to flee to the south, then been pushed west. Edmund had wanted to try getting home but at each turn had been forced the opposite way; and his companions had no particular bent on reaching Ostwick, feeling it safer to be further from their circle. 

“I’m Cole,” Cole repeated. 

Sera raised an eyebrow, fiddling with the string of her bow with one hand while drinking her soup with the other. 

Edmund glanced between Cole and Wallace, then at Dorian. He was still getting filled in on everything--there was a lot of catching up to do. Cole and Dorian were particularly… unusual companions for him to find his brother with. A ‘spirit’ and a Tevinter mage. Edmund took the bowl of soup, smiling in amusement, and took a bite. 

“What?” Wallace asked, catching the look. 

“Nothing.” 

Wallace shoved Edmund with his foot. “What?” he repeated more intently, though he was also smiling. He hadn’t really stopped since finding him, even when he’d been crying and hugging him at the river he’d been smiling. 

Wallace glanced at Dorian and Cole again, not wanting to offend anyone. “Just--wasn’t enough to suddenly start supporting the mages--had to go out and start leading a whole-ass Inquisition that supports them; get yourself a… spirit and a Tevinter mage for good measure? No offense meant,” Edmund said, leaning forward so he could address Dorian at the same time as Cole. 

Sera laughed. “Don’t worry about offending that one, he specializes in it,” she grinned playfully at Dorian. 

Dorian gave her a look then snorted. “Fair enough.” 

Wallace gave one short laugh. Doing any such thing had not been his original intention; but perhaps it was partly on Edmund’s account. Wallace had certainly been thrown into being more open, thanks to Edmund. The whole family had. “Yes, well, with you gone someone had to take over being the family trouble-maker. I’ve had to work doubly hard to start rumors, I’m not half so good at it as you.” 

“I’d hardly say that, I can’t imagine what people must be saying. I’ve been missing out--we’ve barely heard anything out here. I may have to let you keep the title.” Edmund took another bite of soup. 

“Oh? That doesn’t sound like my brother. Since when are you so quick to surrender?” 

“I said  _ maybe _ .” Edmund glanced up, a twinkle in his eye. 

\----

Dorian stopped at the top of the stairs, spotting Edmund leaning against the table by the alcove. Dorian slowed his pace, nodding as Edmund looked up at the sound of his steps. 

“Morning.”

Edmund smiled, a hint of humor there. “Pretty sure it’s afternoon.” 

They had returned late to Skyhold, making a final push rather than camping out in the mountains, and Dorian had slept in. He tsked. “I suppose it is. Good afternoon then. To what do I owe the pleasure?” 

Edmund looked at Dorian blankly. “Huh? Oh. I was just reading--Wallace was showing me around but had to go speak to some visiting…” Edmund waved a hand. “Ser Whoever--Lady Montilyet said the name but I don’t remember.”

“Ah. Yes, unfortunate business that. Being Inquisitor means your brother gets to have all the fun of making nice with the visiting ‘whoevers’.” Dorian came and leaned against the table, bending to see what Edmund had picked out from the shelves. 

Edmund held the book up so Dorian could read the front. “Looking at things about the Fade. Of course I got to read some things back at the circle; but I wasn’t that interested then. Brushing up now that Wallace has--well… been there.” 

Dorian straightened up. “Ah--yes I can see how that might spark one’s interest. I’ve been doing some ‘brushing up’ myself. If you really want to get into it you should speak with Solas. He’s our resident Fade expert.” 

Edmund nodded. “I will then. What about you? What’s your specialty?” 

Dorian smirked. “Being too charming and a bad influence, if you ask around. But magically speaking I’m a necromancer. With a bit of fire thrown in for good measure.” 

Edmund raised an eyebrow, grinning. “For good measure.” 

“And you? I confess what I know of the circles here in the south is quite limited. Lady Vivienne paints a pretty picture, but…” 

Edmund hmm’d, closing the book and setting it back on the table. “I don’t know if I can really say I have a specialty. I’ve only been there for four years--and the whole time things were in such a state with the rising tensions… I don’t know, maybe it was always that much of a mess. If I had to pick I’d say fire--wanted to learn something that might be useful.” 

Dorian gave Edmund a look. “There’s a lot of magic that’s useful besides fire. Were you expecting to be fighting?” 

Edmund glanced up at Dorian, folding his arms. “I don’t know. Maybe. I didn’t want to go to the Circle, if that’s what you mean.” 

Dorian nodded. “Quite understandable.” Dorian paused, calculating in his mind. “How old are you?” 

“Eighteen. Why?” 

“You said you’ve been there four years--I thought, well, my understanding mages were usually taken there as children down here.” 

“They are. My magic didn’t manifest till I was ten. Quite late. And then my parents hid it; they didn’t want me taken, either.” 

“So Wallace has said. Well--I’m glad to see you’re alright with all the mess that’s been happening. He’s been looking for you quite intently, you know,” Dorian said. 

Edmund broke into a grin, looking down and relaxing his arms. “That’s Wallace. He’s always been protective. I’m glad to be here.” Edmund got a distant look, then pushed away from the table, standing fully. 

“Planning to stay on?” Dorian asked. 

Edmund nodded. “Yes. Perhaps I can actually get some decent combat training now; there’s enough mages about. I can hardly run home and cower while Wallace is out here trying to save the world. We’re Trevelyans; we stick together. Mostly.” Edmund rolled his eyes, thinking of some of the more distant family who were not so inclined to familial loyalty when ‘mage blood’ came into play. 

Dorian stood up as well. “Indeed. If you’re looking for tips, care to step into the yard? I fancy I could give you a hand with the combat bit.” 

Edmund adjusted his arms, clearly pleased by the offer. “Sure.” 

\----

“Achk.” Wallace made an uncomfortable sound. 

“Trouble?” Dorian asked. 

“Sand. And also sweat,” Wallace said, wiping at his forehead. 

“Maybe if you had some hair to absorb it.” Edmund commented, grinning. 

“I shaved my head because of you, you little shit!” Wallace countered. When Edmund had finally been discovered and taken to the circle, Wallace had started shaving his head in some sort of protest. He honestly wasn’t sure now why he’d thought that was the thing to do, but he had. 

“And yet you continue to do so, despite the fact I’m here now?” Edmund said, tilting his head. 

“I’m used to it now.” 

“Having more hair doesn’t help,” Blackwall said dryly, pulling at his collar under his beard. 

Dorian just chuckled and snapped the reins of his horse, starting forward. 

“Why aren’t you complaining? You’re usually the first to have something to say about our inclimate circumstances,” Wallace said, following. 

“Oh, I hate it out here, but I’d rather be too hot than freezing my bits off. And I’m quite enjoying getting to hear everyone else complain for once,” Dorian said lightly. 

“I haven’t complained,” Edmund put in. 

“Hey--that’s right. Why aren’t you complaining?” Wallace asked, turning in his saddle. 

“I’ve been stuck in a circle for ages--I’ll take anything now!” Edmund grinned, though he was sweating too. 


	12. To Face Fear

“Mmm,” Wallace took a breath, slowing his movement as he eased himself down from his horse. They had been checking out some of the areas the scouts had referred Wallace to after taking Griffin Wing keep--waiting while Cullen was preparing their forces for the attack on Adamont--and getting far too much sun. They all had bits that were sunburned despite wraps and trying to avoid being out during midday; a week out here was taking its toll. And it would be a time yet before their forces arrived in numbers suitable to attempt to take the fortress. 

Dorian paused by Wallace, stretching his back. “I’ve changed my mind. I’m going to start complaining now, too.” 

Wallace chuckled tiredly, glancing sideways at him. “What was that you were doing this afternoon then?” 

“What--by the sulfur pools? That was merely me making observations and stating facts. But now my back hurts and you’re going to hear about it.” Dorian leaned back, cracking something which gave only the most momentary relief. 

Wallace smiled. “Yes, yes. Go sit down, I’ll come join you in a moment.”

“No promise of a back rub? I’m appalled. You’re the Inquisitor, you’re meant to fix all our problems.” Dorian walked off, tsking. 

Wallace snorted and removed his helmet, shaking the sand that had blown into it out over the stones which were also covered in sand. 

Edmund came to a hopping halt next to him, attempting to shake out a boot. Wallace offered his arm for balance, which Edmund took. “Thanks,” he said, pulling the boot back on.

“Mhhm,” Wallace hummed, patting his horse’s neck. 

Edmund pushed his hair back, still damp with sweat, and glanced towards the little fire a few yards away where the soldiers were cooking dinner. “So…” he started slowly, tone clearly mischievous. 

Wallace turned. “Hmm? What?” he asked, sensing something was up. What was Edmund planning now?

“You and Dorian…” 

Wallace froze, the smile that had been forming stuck on his face. 

Edmund grinned now. “What’s going on there?” 

“Nothing,” Wallace said, turning away. 

“Oh? Really? Lot of flirting for  _ nothing _ ,” Edmund said, sounding vaguely disappointed. He didn’t believe his brother for a second. 

Wallace unstrapped his sword belt, moving towards the tent they kept their weapons in. Edmund followed. Wallace glanced back as he knelt in the tent, making sure his sword was truly clean before leaving it for the night, and saw Edmund standing there with his arms crossed. 

Wallace huffed. “Yes--we flirt. That’s it.” 

“That’s it, huh?” Edmund prompted. 

“Yes.” 

“You like him.” 

“No!”

“Liar.” 

Wallace sighed. “Would you--alright!” He dropped his voice slightly. “Yes, I like him.”

“Haven’t you said anything to him, then?” 

“No.” 

“Why not?” Edmund asked, genuinely interested. 

“There’s… not exactly been a good opportunity! We’ve got other concerns, in case you haven’t noticed,” Wallace said, only half jokingly. 

“So? Good grief, how long has this been going on? I’ve only been with you a month and I’m rolling my eyes at you two. How is it neither of you has said anything! That’s not like you, Wallace.” 

Wallace stood, hands on his hips. “No--because… he hasn’t said anything either! We’re friends, Edmund. He’s my best friend. I don’t want to mess that up by making things awkward if he’s not interested.” 

Edmund snorted, giving Wallace a serious look. “And what if he’s thinking the same thing?” 

Wallace didn’t answer that. 

Edmund rolled his eyes. “Maybe I don’t know what I’m talking about, but you’ve been throwing him looks all week and from where I’m sitting, he’s doing the exact same thing.” A pause. “Want me to ask him?” Edmund grinned. 

“Don’t you dare!” Wallace said, moving close to loom over his brother. 

Edmund just grinned up at him, but it broke after a moment into something more genuine and less impish. “I’m serious! If I ask, you don’t risk anything. If he says no, then you never tipped your hand. No awkwardness!” 

Wallace let out a controlled breath. “Edmund… thank you, but no. I… I really like him, and if… I want to tell him, if there’s any chance of anything more...  _ I _ need to tell him. Just, when I think it’s the right time. Alright? I’m serious.” 

Edmund gave him an appraising look for a moment, then raised his hands and returned to his typical affect. “Alright--whatever you say. Hope neither of you gets eaten by a dragon before you speak up.”

“I’ll feed you to it as a sacrifice if we see one,” Wallace deadpanned. 

“Wow, thanks, I feel so loved.” 

\----

Dorian staggered to a halt on the flagstones, nearly running into’s Blackwall’s back as they exited the rift. The fade! They’d just come from the blighted fade! Dorian straightened, panting and looking around. 

“Are you alright? What happened?” Cassandra came jogging towards them, pushing past the few Grey Wardens in the courtyard. 

“Fine--somehow,” Varric said, strained. 

Cassandra craned her neck slightly. “Where’s Hawke?”

“And Wallace?” Edmund added, stopping beside her as he ran up. 

They hadn’t come through. Dorian turned back. What--they’d been right behind them. What had happened? Dorian felt his stomach turn. Something was wrong. Maker, what if they didn’t make it? What if that demon had somehow stopped them--killed them? Dorian stood rooted to the spot, feeling like his blood was turning to ice in his veins.  _ This is it. This is where I lose him forever--and I never told him…  _

Metal on stone, scrapping as Hawke slid on her knees a bit after catching her foot on the stones. And then Wallace, slipping also as he turned back, raising his hand. A flash of light--a tearing, popping sound--and then silence. And cheers--the Inquisitor was back!

Wallace turned as Hawke jumped to her feet, both panting. Varric let out a sigh, stepping over to her. Wallace looked up--at Dorian for a moment--then past him as one of the Grey Wardens asked where Stroud was. 

\----

“Surprised you’re still awake.” Dorian said, stopping a few feet from Wallace. Normally he’d say something smart, but after today…

Wallace was leaning against the battlements, staring out across the sands. He turned his head, giving Dorian a tight smile of greeting. “Me too. Can’t sleep. What about you?” 

Dorian shrugged one shoulder. “Neither can I.” Dorian walked over and leaned against the stone next to Wallace, fiddling with the edge of the blanket he was carrying around as a cloak. He glanced at Wallace; a million things he wanted to say to him. He didn’t. Even when he thought Wallace might be interested in more than just trading compliments… Dorian cared about him. Valued him. To escalate things, only to inevitably have Wallace walk away… Dorian had known plenty of men who were fine with that. He had resigned himself to that, but he didn’t want that with Wallace. If he tried to get closer, and failed, or if he succeeded and then Wallace lost interest… he didn’t want to face either. So he chose to say something he felt Wallace might need to hear, rather than something dangerous. 

“Wallace… forgive me if I’m misreading, but… it’s not your fault. Stroud. You had to make a call, yes, but that doesn’t make it your fault. He was a Grey Warden, a fine one. They know what their jobs mean--it might not have been a Darkspawn but… he did his duty. He wouldn’t blame you for it, and neither does anyone else.” 

Wallace lowered his head, tightening his grip on the battlements for a moment. “I know,” he said finally, voice low. “Thank you.” 

Dorian nodded. “Anything I can do? Find a book on something mundane and read you to sleep?” Dorian quipped, though his voice betrayed the attempt. 

Wallace straightened, shaking his head. “No, thank you.”

Dorian made a quiet sound of acknowledgement and looked back out at the flat expanse, still bright in its way even at night; the sand throwing back and amplifying the moonlight. 

“Dorian,” Wallace said, turning towards him. 

Dorian looked back, raising an eyebrow at Wallace’s serious expression. “Yes?” 

Wallace glanced down, then away as he gave a little huff, smiling oddly as if annoyed.  _ So much for the right time. _ He looked back at Dorian. “I… need to tell you something.”

Dorian was curious now. “Oh? I am, as you say, all ears.” 

Wallace chuckled. Why was Dorian’s voice so damn smooth? “I… look. I know we flirt. A lot. We have been for ages. I tend to do that with people, and I didn’t mean anything by it at first really so this… may come as a surprise but,” Wallace looked at him directly now, watching for his reaction. For Dorian’s part he was seemingly frozen. “I… care about you. More than just as a friend. I mean--that too, you’re my best friend--but… Maker! I don’t want to make things awkward. We’ve been going back and forth so long I honestly can’t tell if you’re just joking around or not. But if there’s a chance you’re not, if you’d be open to more than… I’d like to take that chance.” 

More?  _ More _ ? More than what? Dorian straightened slowly, feeling a cold sweat on his palms. He gave Wallace a slightly weak smile, trying to buy time as his mind raced. “Well…” his mouth was dry. “I am--a bit shocked, yes. Not unpleasantly so!” he hastily added. What on earth--he felt like he had butterflies in his stomach. “I’ve hardly been lying when I’ve said you’re attractive.” Dorian mentally smacked himself.  _ Stop being flippant! This is serious! _

Wallace looked down, blushing even though he’d heard the compliment a hundred times by now. 

“When you say… more, what do you mean?” Dorian dared. He quickly went on, old habits taking over. “Surely you don’t mean you want it to be known you’re interested in a mage from Tevinter! Imagine the scandal.”  _ Kaffas _ . If all Wallace wanted was a bit of fun on the side, he’d take it. But it was going to sting the whole time. 

Wallace gave a good-humored snort. “Oh, I’m quite used to scandal by now.” He fiddled with his hands for a moment, still watching Dorian’s face. “I mean I love you Dorian. And I’d like to try to make something of it. If you’re interested.” 

_ Make something _ . Dorian tried to scoff, to make things less tense, but it didn’t help him any. He stared at Wallace for a moment, catching the moment the man’s nerves crept back as Dorian didn’t answer. Dorian’s expression softened. He was still scared, but not so much when he looked at Wallace. He reached out and tucked his hand into’s Wallace’s, a jolt of emotion passing through him as Wallace squeezed his hand in return. “You are a very impossible man to resist, you know that?” Dorian said, voice cracking slightly.

Wallace broke into a grin again. “Am I? I rather thought you were the impossible one.” 

Dorian’s back stiffened slightly as he felt Wallace’s other hand placed on it, pulling him forward just close enough for Wallace to kiss him. Dorian closed his eyes, raising his free hand to Wallace’s neck. 

Wallace lifted his head after a moment, then gave him another quick kiss before finally stepping back. He gave Dorian a frankly silly smile, moving his hand from his back and touching Dorian’s cheek for a moment. The look he had almost made Dorian feel like crying. “I love you.” 

Dorian hesitated only a moment. “Well--... I love you, too.” 

\----

“Ugh, I can’t believe I’m excited to go back to a building but… I cannot wait to get back to Skyhold,” Edmund said, attaching his saddlebags in preparation to leave. 

“I am also looking forward to returning. I have had quite enough sun,” Cassandra agreed. 

“And sand,” Wallace added. 

“Indeed. I’m looking forward to a decent bath.” Dorian walked behind the others, carrying his own bags. “Look at this! Horrific.” Dorian brushed at hair that refused to stay where he pushed it, continually falling forward into his face. 

Cassandra rolled her eyes. 

“You look lovely. Very rugged.” Wallace grinned at him. 

“Rugged is your forte, not mine!” Dorian pushed at his hair again, interrupted as Wallace caught his hand and kissed him quickly. It was warm, playful, and completely out in the open. Dorian just stared at him as Wallace stepped back, but Wallace was laughing and didn’t seem to notice. 

Cassandra said nothing, though she did seem a bit more sunburned than a moment before. 

Edmund grinned at Dorian as he swung himself up into his saddle, looking to Wallace. “Are we going to head out before the sun’s at its hottest, or do you two need more time to flirt?” 

“Hush,” Wallace said calmly, also mounting up to go. 

Dorian swung his bags over the saddle and pulled himself up. 


	13. For All to See

“Your glib tongue does you no credit.” 

“You’d be surprised as the credit my tongue gets me, your reverence.” 

Wallace stopped at the top of the stairs, catching Dorian’s eye. He was unusually unreadable, looking back to Mother Giselle who now turned, also spotting Wallace. 

“Oh! Your Worship.” 

“What’s going on?” Wallace asked carefully, taking the last step and walking to stand near the two. By their tones, they’d clearly been arguing. 

“She’s concerned about my undue influence over you,” Dorian supplied quickly, arms crossed. 

Wallace raised an eyebrow, looking to Mother Giselle. 

“It  _ is _ just concern. Surely you must know how this looks, Inquisitor,” she said calmly. 

“How what looks?” Wallace asked. 

“You may need to spell it out, my dear,” Dorian said. 

“Inquisitor, this man is of Tevinter. His presence at your side--the rumors alone!” Mother Giselle stopped, as if that said all that needed to be said to explain her position. 

Wallace closed his eyes for just a moment.  _ Ah _ . “My reputation is my own concern, your reverence. I do not bother myself with idle gossip or opinions. And neither should you,” Wallace said firmly. He in fact respected Mother Giselle; she had been very supportive of him at the start of all this mess. He was not comforted to think she was hounding Dorian now over… what? Rumors from Adamont? He was sure there must be lots; he had made no effort to hide the change in his and Dorian’s relationship. They had both anticipated some pushback--but Wallace had not anticipated it from her. 

Mother Giselle paused, weighing. “Your Worship, while we must not bow to the opinions of the masses for their own sake, there are times when what they believe has merit; and it always has weight.  _ Are _ the rumors merely idle gossip?” 

Dorian snorted, shifting his weight. 

Wallace frowned, on the verge of losing his temper. Now he crossed his arms. “I don’t know what all the rumors say, but let’s not beat around the bush. You’re asking if Dorian and I are in a relationship; and yes, we are. It’s not a secret. Anything beyond that is no one’s business, and I’ll thank you to respect that.” 

Dorian looked at him without turning, taken aback. Obviously… Wallace must have no qualms about being public with what was going on--he’d immediately taken to being openly affectionate after their talk at Adamont. The whole trip back he hadn’t shied away from taking Dorian’s hand or even kissing him with no concern for who might be around. Somehow… Dorian had expected Skyhold to be different. 

Mother Giselle bowed her head slightly, clearly not expecting that answer. “I… see. If you feel this man has no ulterior motive then--” 

“Ulterior motive? Excuse me! Revered Mother I’ll ask you to mind your tongue if you have nothing to say beyond baseless slander!” Wallace snapped. He’d had enough. 

Mother Giselle paused, bowing her head again. “I meant no disrespect. I humbly beg forgiveness of you both.” She backed away and turned, heading down the stairs. 

Wallace made a sound in his throat, turning to face Dorian. “Are you alright?” 

Dorian shifted. “Me? I didn’t just get my head bit off.” He shifted his expression more serious. “I’m fine. I’m used to thinly veiled accusations. Hers were at least kindly meant, on your part anyway.” 

“That’s not an excuse!” Wallace said, bristling. 

Dorian gave him a smile, finding himself quite pleased that Wallace would react so defensively on his behalf. “Maybe not, but if it lets me enjoy seeing you in a righteous fury, then it was good for something.” 

Wallace huffed, trying to let Dorian’s words calm him down even while he felt his blood still boiling. “You’re really not bothered?” 

“By what? People talking? My dear man, if I were bothered by every nasty thing anyone ever said about me I’d be a nervous wreck, and who has the time for that? Bad for the skin, too.” Dorian reached out and touched Wallace’s arm gently. “I’m not going to say it’s not hurtful, but I’m fine.  _ Yours _ is the good opinion I care about, and I rather think I’ve got that locked up.” Dorian slipped between serious and teasing with ease. 

Wallace snorted, then sighed, moving his arm so he could take hold of Dorian’s hand. “Alright. But if it does upset--or if anyone else says something--”

“Yes, yes. You’ll knock their heads together for me. I know.” Dorian laughed. “Very gallant. If I ever run into something I can’t handle, I’ll be sure to let you know.” 

“Good. Do,” Wallace said, emphasizing the word. He rolled his shoulder, releasing some tension. “Care for a walk? I could use one after that.” 

Dorian tilted his head towards the stairs. “There’s nothing I’d rather do, Amatus.” 

“Amatus?” 

Dorian smirked, pulling on Wallace’s hand to go. “I’ll tell you later. Maybe. Maybe I’ll make you figure it out.” 

\----

Dorian lay on his side staring into the darkness with Wallace at his back. They were trying to go to sleep, but Dorian was wide awake. Wallace clearly wasn’t asleep yet either. Or maybe he’d woken back up; his arm was tucked over Dorian’s shoulder so he could hold his hand, and his thumb was gently stroking Dorian’s knuckles. Dorian took a breath, glancing upward towards the head of the bed and trying to calm himself down some. His mind had been going in frustrating circles for the last… half hour? How long had they been laying like this? 

He was going back and forth between taking things at face value, and doubting everything that had happened over the last week. He cared for Wallace, and Wallace did for him. It was all a bit… unbelievable. Since Wallace had spoken to him at Adamont everything had changed. Beyond the confrontation with Mother Giselle Wallace acted like there was nothing to worry about--no reason to be cautious or subtle. He was openly affectionate no matter who was around. And in private--actually some things  _ hadn’t _ changed. He was still seemingly just as interested in sitting and talking as well as, well... anything else they could be doing. 

Dorian wasn’t sure what to do with this. He liked it, no, he loved it! He loved Wallace and how much Wallace seemed to be in love with him. Not just attracted to him but really loved  _ him.  _ But… he couldn’t get rid of a little voice in his head warning him that this must all surely end at some point. Maybe Wallace was more romantic than others of Dorian’s acquaintance, but surely there was going to come a time when he would say  _ enough. Let’s move on. I’m tired of this. Of you.  _

Dorian shifted slightly, uncomfortable even thinking about it. Wallace moved to accommodate, hand slipping away from Dorian’s and coming to rest gently against his shoulder blade. Dorian frowned, a sudden burst of annoyance at himself and these feelings causing him to roll over to face Wallace. This might hurt, but it would only hurt more the longer he waited. 

“Wallace?” 

Wallace, surprised by the sudden movement anyway, was now wide awake again as well. “Yes?” 

Dorian froze, no words coming for a moment. He was terrified to ask. Why not just enjoy it while it lasted? That’s what he’d always done. And he’d always been hurt. He moved his hand to grab Wallace’s again, something subconsciously afraid that after he spoke this might be the last time he’d be able to do that. “Where do you see this--us--in the future?” Us. He wasn’t used to using the phrase. 

Wallace smiled a bit, recalling something Dorian had said in the past. “You mean provided one or both of us doesn’t end up dead?” He wasn’t sure why he was joking about something so serious, but at the moment he felt rather invincible. He was not at all in the same headspace as Dorian at the moment. 

Dorian’s brow creased. “Provided that doesn’t happen, yes,” he said somberly. 

Wallace caught the tone, pushing himself up slightly to brace one elbow on his pillow, causing him to pull his hand away. Dorian let it go reluctantly, but felt a bit of relief when Wallace moved his other hand onto Dorian’s shoulder, rubbing it gently with his thumb. “Well, I don’t know. I’m not sure what will happen to the Inquisition once we defeat Corypheus.”  _ If we do _ , he added mentally. But he was ever the optimist, and he would plan accordingly. “So I don’t think I can say precisely, but whatever we’re doing, wherever we end up, I’d like it to be together.” Wallace couldn’t see Dorian well in the dark, and so focused past him at a light out on the ramparts. 

Dorian gave a little huff, relieved and surprised. 

“Why? Where do you see us?” 

Dorian laughed, mostly as himself. He moved his hand up to catch Wallace’s, rolling onto his back. “That simple, eh?” 

“Is it not?” Wallace asked. 

“Not for me. Or at least, it never has been.” 

Wallace tilted his head, confused, then caught what he thought Dorian meant. “You mean because of your family?” 

Dorian nodded. “That, and… well, Tevinter as a whole. There, anything between two men… well, you know. It’s just for fun, not something anyone would take seriously or… try to build a life on.” 

Wallace laid back down, retucking his arm across Dorian’s chest. “We’re not in Tevinter, Dorian. And even if we were, who’s to stop us?” Wallace tone shifted. “I think trying to build a life with you sounds pretty good.” 

Dorian was silent for a moment, rubbing his hand along Wallace’s arm. He chuckled at himself again as his mind supplied the cliched thought ‘ _ you must be dreaming _ ’. 

“What?” Wallace asked. 

“Just laughing at myself. I have to occasionally, I so rarely give anyone else an excuse to.” 

Wallace snorted good-naturedly. 

Dorian turned onto his side again, placing one hand on Wallace’s cheek. “You are a hopeless romantic, you know that? ...But I agree. I think being with me for the rest of however long we both live does sound pretty great,” Dorian grinned, unable to say things as seriously as he wanted. 

Wallace snorted more forcefully. “And you are a merciless tease. Fortunately I like that about you.” Wallace leaned forward and kissed Dorian’s forehead, then settled back down. “Love you.” 

Dorian tucked his hand back under the blanket where it was warm. “Love you too, Amatus.”

Wallace raised his head. “Are you going to finally tell me what that means?”

Dorian shifted his hand under the blanket, pressing it to Wallace's chest meaningfully. "You already know." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter! I didn't originally intend to end it here, I had more planned but with the situation in real life being what it is I'm not in a place to continue it, and I didn't want to just leave the story hanging. So I made a slight adjustment to hopefully make this a satisfactory stopping point. I hope you enjoyed reading my work and it brought you some happiness.


End file.
